As the weeks turned into months at Daryl's company, I learned to understand his communication style. My initial assumptions about his treatment of me faded, replaced by the realization that he was simply a kind person.
Dizziness struck me mid-elevator ride. I leaned against the wall, the sensation uncomfortably familiar—it had been weeks since I'd felt this way. 
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped into Daryl's office, my usual routine a stark contrast to the unsettling feeling that lingered. As I reached my desk and began to tidy up, a tingling sensation started in my stomach.
The wave of nausea hit me hard, and I raced to the bathroom, barely making it in time. What was wrong with me? After a quick rinse with mouthwash, I returned to my desk, feeling drained. Daryl was already deep in work, his focus a stark contrast to my own disorientation. I tried to settle back into my tasks. Then, Daryl's voice broke through the quiet, calling me over the intercom.
I entered his office, and our eyes met in a silent exchange. His gaze held a subtle judgement, and I instinctively reached up to touch my hair, a nervous gesture that betrayed my discomfort.
"You look unwell," Daryl said, his brow furrowed. "Are you okay?" 
I plastered a smile on my face.
 
"I'm fine, sir. Just a little stomach upset," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. He nodded, his concern lingering. 
"If you need to go to the clinic, don't hesitate," he advised.  
"I'm alright, really," I insisted, determined to push through the discomfort.
He suggested I take it easy, his concern evident in his eyes. I tried to focus on my work, but the discomfort in my stomach intensified, forcing me to rush back to the bathroom. Returning to my desk, I was surprised to find Daryl waiting for me, his presence a stark contrast to the unsettling feeling that still lingered.
"I've called the nurse," Daryl announced, his concern evident. "They'll be here to check you out." "I'm fine, sir! I don't need to see anyone," I insisted, trying to sound stronger than I felt. He just looked at me, his expression unreadable. "You look like you're about to faint," he said, his voice laced with worry. I reached for my phone, realizing the futility of arguing.
I was shocked by how pale my face was. I didn't feel terribly ill, but my body felt incredibly heavy, as if every muscle was filled with concrete.
"Wait for me here. Get your things together," Daryl commanded. 
I followed his instructions, a wave of curiosity washing over me. Was he taking me somewhere?
Daryl emerged from his office, and I followed him, feeling a growing sense of unease. As we entered the elevator, I felt a familiar dizziness, and I stumbled, about to collapse. Daryl reacted instantly, his hand reaching out to catch me before I could fall. I looked at him, my eyes meeting his, and saw a flicker of concern in his gaze.
"I need to go home," I whispered, my voice barely a breath. Daryl took a deep breath, as if trying to gather his thoughts. 
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. I nodded, my desire to escape overwhelming any other thought.
The elevator doors slid open, revealing a group of employees staring at us. I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me.
"Ignore them," Daryl said, his voice a warm rumble beside me. My cheeks flushed, and I could smell his masculine scent, a heady mix of cologne and something else, something uniquely him.
We reached the parking lot, and he held the door open, his hand lingering on the frame for a moment.
We got into his car, and he drove off, the silence broken only by the hum of the engine. I was lost in my thoughts, watching the scenery pass by, when I heard him clear his throat, a sound that shattered the quiet and signaled a change in the atmosphere.
"If you can't make it in tomorrow, just stay home," Daryl said, his voice gentle but firm. I met his gaze, a silent battle raging within me.
"I'm fine, sir!" I declared, my voice betraying my inner turmoil. 
I quickly looked away, focusing on the passing scenery, trying to distract myself from the growing sense of unease.
The familiar streets whizzed by, and I knew we were nearing my house. Daryl stopped the car in front of our driveway, and there was Joana, standing by the curb, her gaze fixed on us. I looked at Daryl, a wave of anticipation washing over me.
"Thank you, sir! I'm fine. See you tomorrow!" I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.  
I grabbed my bag and stepped out of the car, my legs feeling shaky. Joana's worried gaze followed me, and she reached for my bag, even though it wasn't heavy, her gesture betraying my feigned strength.
We went inside, and I expected to see Daryl's car disappear down the street, but it was still there, parked in the driveway. I couldn't understand why he hadn't left yet.
"Is that your boss?" Joana asked, her eyes following Daryl's car as it pulled away. A wave of relief washed over me as I watched it disappear down the street.  
"I'm going to get some rest," I said, feeling a sudden urge to escape the day's events. Joana nodded, understanding my need for quiet.
I stumbled into my room, overwhelmed by exhaustion. I threw myself onto the bed and drifted off to sleep almost instantly. When I woke up, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. My body felt lighter, stronger. I pulled my phone out of my bag, finding a flurry of messages from Mom. I opened one, just as my phone rang. It was her.
"Mom," I said, my voice weak.  
"You sound really sick, Tyra. Why don't you see a doctor?" she asked, her concern evident.  
"I will, but not now. I'm too busy," I replied, my words a feeble attempt to convince myself and my mother.  
I looked up at the darkening sky, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me.  
"You should see a doctor first, honey! Your health comes first," she insisted, her voice carrying the weight of her love. I took a deep breath, knowing she was right. "Yeah, Mom, you're right," I agreed, as the door opened.
Tyler barged into my room, the sudden light making me wince. He settled onto my bed, his presence a silent intrusion as he listened to my conversation with Mom.
"I heard someone come in. Is that Tyler?" Mom asked, her voice laced with concern. I looked at him, a wave of annoyance washing over me. I put the call on speakerphone, wanting to involve him in the conversation.  
"He's here!" I said, my tone flat. Tyler looked confused, his expression unreadable.  
"Take care of your sister, Tyler," Mom said, her voice firm. Tyler shot me a glare, his frustration evident.
"I'm doing my best, Mom!" he said, his voice tight. I smirked, a flicker of defiance in my eyes. 
"I'm the one taking care of you," I countered, my words laced with sarcasm. Mom's laughter felt strained. 
"Just remember I love you both," she said, her voice a desperate attempt to bridge the gap. I nodded, my silence speaking volumes. 
"We love you too, Mom," Tyler said, his voice strained. I glared at him, my anger simmering beneath the surface. 
"And Dad!" I added, my voice clipped, as the call ended, leaving a tense silence in the room.
Tyler's gaze lingered on me, his eyes searching, analyzing. I rolled my eyes, feeling a wave of impatience, and stood up from the bed, my movements a silent protest against his scrutiny.
"I'll go with you if you want to see a doctor," Tyler said, his words a stark contrast to the silence that had filled the room moments before. He stood up from my bed, his presence a comforting presence in the midst of my anxiety. I watched him leave, a sense of peace settling over me, and then I went to the bathroom, finally allowing myself to relax.
The warmth of the bath lingered as I sat down to dinner with Joana and Tyler. But the pleasant feeling was quickly replaced by a churning in my stomach. I felt a familiar wave of nausea coming on and excused myself, racing to the bathroom before I could lose control. I emptied my stomach, the contents of the delicious meal now a bitter reminder of the sudden discomfort.
"Come on, what's wrong with me?" I muttered to myself, splashing water on my face. 
Joana's voice startled me. "Did you just throw up?" she asked, peering into the bathroom. 
"Yeah, I'm sorry," I mumbled, hearing her sigh. 
"Did you and Laxus... do something before we left?" Her question sent a wave of panic through me. We hadn't used protection that night. "Well, your brother said he saw Laxus in your room," she added, her words echoing in my head. This couldn't be happening. 
"Maybe you're pregnant?" Joana continued, her voice insistent. I stepped out of the bathroom, trying to shake off the growing dread. "Nah, that's impossible," I said, forcing a smile as I headed back to the kitchen.  
"But there's still a chance," Joana persisted, and Tyler, who had been watching the exchange, turned his gaze to us.
Tyler was already clearing the table, his movements efficient and quiet. My appetite had vanished completely.
"I'm going back to my room," I said, needing some space to process everything. My hand instinctively reached for the calendar hanging on my wall. One glance was all it took. A week late. My heart pounded in my chest. 
"Maybe it's just stress," I whispered, trying to rationalize the delay. But the thought of being pregnant wouldn't leave my mind. What if?
The cool water on my brush, a final ritual before sleep. I drifted back into the softness of my bed, the world fading away with each gentle breath.
I woke to a familiar wave of nausea, my body wracked with discomfort. I stumbled to the bathroom, collapsing onto the cold tiles. A knock on the door startled me, but I could barely muster the strength to respond. The door creaked open, and I heard some footsteps.
"Tyra, where are you?" Tyler's voice echoed through the room, followed by the sound of his approaching footsteps. I forced myself to stand, flushing the toilet as I did so. I splashed water on my face, trying to regain my composure. 
"Let's go to the hospital," he said, finding me in the bathroom. 
"I have a lot of work," I replied, closing the door behind me, my voice barely a whisper.
The sound of Tyler's footsteps fading down the room was a welcome reprieve. I sank into the warm water of the bath, the steam rising around me like a comforting embrace. I carefully applied my makeup, trying to regain a sense of normalcy. The door creaked open, interrupting my peaceful retreat.
"I'll drive you to work," Tyler said, his words a gentle but firm command. I watched him leave, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. He wouldn't let me drive, not in this state. I knew it was for the best, but a pang of frustration shot through me. I would let him drive me. What else could I do?
With my makeup finally done, I emerged from my room, ready to face the day. Tyler was already in the living room, waiting.
"Take care," Joana said, her eyes sparkling with a mix of concern and affection. I smiled back, my heart filled with a mix of gratitude and anticipation. 
"You too," I replied, my voice a soft murmur. We stepped out of the house, the sunlight streaming through the open doorway.
The sound of Tyler's sighs, a symphony of unspoken emotions, filled the car. I listened, my mind racing, trying to decipher the source of his distress. His worries, though unspoken, were a heavy presence in the car.
"What's your problem?" I asked, my voice laced with irritation. He met my gaze, his expression serious. "Just take a pregnancy test, Tyra," he said, his voice firm. "If it's negative, we can move on. But if it's positive, you need to take care of your baby." His words hung in the air, heavy with concern. I was silent for a moment, his seriousness catching me off guard. 
"I'm sure I'm not pregnant," I finally replied, as we pulled up to my workplace.
The car door swung open, revealing the harsh glare of the sun. I stumbled out, my head spinning slightly. Tyler followed, his brow furrowed with worry. I took a deep breath, trying to regain my balance. The dizziness was a persistent ache, but I wouldn't let it cripple me. I could manage.
"Think about it, Tyra!" Tyler's voice was a distant echo, his words barely registering. My eyes burned, a searing pain that spread through my head. Heat pulsed through my body, a wave of nausea rising in my throat. My legs buckled, and the world blurred around me. 
"Tyra!" A voice, sharp and urgent, cut through the haze. That was Daryl!