It Will Be Okay

The apartment had always been quiet in the mornings.

Not silent, never silent, but soft. Lived-in. The hum of the fridge. The occasional sound of traffic outside the windows. The kettle clicking when one of you forgot to turn it off properly.

Usually, Asa was the first one awake.

She liked slow mornings. Coffee before conversation. Sunlight through the curtains. Sometimes she’d sit on the kitchen counter in one of your hoodies while you made breakfast badly on purpose just so she’d eventually take over with an annoyed sigh.

It had become routine.

Comfort.

Home.

So when you woke up that Monday morning and realised her side of the bed was still occupied well past noon, something immediately felt… off.

At first, you thought she was just tired.

The weekend had been long. You’d both stayed up too late Saturday night watching terrible movies while Asa relentlessly judged every character decision out loud. 

Then Sunday had been spent helping Johnny move apartments, which mostly consisted of you carrying boxes while Asa sat cross-legged on the floor directing everyone like a tiny exhausted commander.

By the time you’d both gotten home, she’d practically collapsed face-first into bed. So tired made sense.

Except Asa never slept this late.

You rubbed your eyes as you sat up, glancing toward her again.

She was still curled under the blankets, barely moving except for the slow rise and fall of her breathing. One arm tucked under the pillow. Brows faintly furrowed even in sleep.

You frowned slightly. “Asa?” you called softly.

A quiet groan answered you. Not words. Just sound.

Your concern sharpened instantly. You moved closer, resting a hand lightly against her forehead. “Baby?”

She cracked one eye open with visible effort. “Mm?”

“You okay?”

She closed her eyes again immediately. “No.”

That got your full attention.

You shifted closer against the headboard. “What hurts?”

“Everything,” she mumbled dramatically into the pillow. “I think I’m dying.”

“You’re twenty-four.”

“People die at twenty-four.”

You snorted despite yourself. “Not from helping Johnny move furniture.”

“You didn’t see those stairs.”

A weak smile tugged at your mouth, but it faded quickly when she pressed a hand against her stomach with another quiet wince.

“Hey,” you said more gently now. “Seriously. What’s wrong?”

She stayed quiet for a second before sighing. “My stomach feels weird.”

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice came out tired and rough with sleep. “Just… bad.”

You studied her face carefully.

Pale. Exhausted. And definitely not pretending.

“Okay,” you said immediately, already getting out of bed. “Stay there.”

One eye opened again. “Where are you going?”

“To get you things.”

“That is not a real answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting right now.”

She let out a tired huff as you disappeared toward the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, you returned balancing water, crackers, medicine, a cold towel, and somehow also her favourite blanket despite the fact she was already under one.

Asa blinked slowly at the pile in your arms. “…Are you opening a hospital?”

“Yes.”

“For a stomach ache?”

“You said you were dying.”

“I was being dramatic.”

“And I’m taking it seriously.”

That finally earned you the smallest smile of the morning. Tiny. Sleepy. Barely there. But enough to make your chest loosen a little.

You sat everything down beside her carefully before climbing back onto the bed. “Drink some water first.”

She made a face immediately. “I don’t want to.”

“You have to.”

“You’re sounding very authoritarian right now.”

“You love it.”

“I tolerate it.”

“You adore me.”

“That remains unconfirmed.”

You grinned slightly as she finally took the glass from your hands.

For a while, things felt manageable after that. Not good. But manageable.

She drank water. Managed half a cracker. Fell back asleep against your shoulder while some random cooking show played quietly in the background.

And without really thinking about it, you cancelled your plans for the day.

Because if Asa was sick, then naturally your only responsibility became Asa. Nothing else really mattered after that.

The first two days, it didn’t seem like anything serious.

Asa had brushed it off with a tired laugh the morning she first felt unwell. “Probably just something I ate,” she had said, already pulling the blanket back over herself like sleep could fix it.

You hadn’t questioned it. Instead, you adjusted your entire world around her.

If she stayed in bed, you stayed in bed. If she wanted water, you were already halfway to the kitchen. If she even looked like she might need something, you were there before she could finish the thought.

Johnny had once called you “a man on standby,” and Ruka had laughed so hard she nearly choked.

But you didn’t care. Because it was Asa. And Asa didn’t take sick days often. By the third morning, though, something shifted.

It wasn’t dramatic. It was quiet. Too quiet.

She had made it to the bathroom before you even fully woke up, and the sound that followed made your stomach drop instantly.

You were up immediately. “Hey, hey,” you called softly, already moving down the hallway. “I’m here.”

The door cracked open a few minutes later, and Asa stepped out looking pale in a way that didn’t suit her at all. Hair tied loosely, eyes half-lidded, one hand still resting lightly against her stomach.

You didn’t say anything at first. You just guided her back to bed, like you had done the last two mornings.

But this time, your chest felt heavier.

She laid down slowly, exhaling.

You sat beside her, brushing her hair back gently. “Baby,” you said quietly, “this has been going on for three days now.”

She gave a small, tired sigh. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Your hand paused for a second. Then you shook your head immediately. “No, baby, it’s fine. I’m not upset. I just…” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I think you need to do a test.”

She frowned slightly, turning her head toward you. “For what?”

You looked at her for a moment. Then you exhaled through your nose, like you’d been holding this thought in for too long. “So I searched up your symptoms,” you admitted slowly, already wincing at yourself, “and… I think you should take a pregnancy test.”

Silence.

Asa just stared at you. Not reacting immediately. Just… processing.

Her eyes stayed on yours, searching for something, panic, certainty, a joke, anything. You gave her none of that. Only honesty.

“…Fuck,” she finally said.

You blinked. “Yeah, that’s… also my reaction.”

She rubbed her face slowly. “Do you want me to get a test?”

“Yes,” you said immediately, already standing. “Please.”

“Okay,” she sighed, sitting up.

You were already moving. Too fast. Definitely too fast. “Alright, I’ll be like five minutes.”

She watched you for half a second. “Y/n, don’t speed.”

“I will not be driving like this,” you called back as you grabbed your wallet off the dresser, your voice slightly raised with urgency. “I’m fucking running to the chemist.”

The front door slammed a second later.

Asa sat there in silence. Then she exhaled sharply through her nose, shaking her head. “This idiot,” she muttered.

But there was no real frustration in it. Only disbelief. And something softer underneath it.

When she got up a few minutes later, it wasn’t because she felt better. It was because sitting still suddenly felt impossible.

She walked slowly to your shared bedroom, passing the kitchen on instinct.

Your phone was sitting on the counter. Unlocked. Asa paused. Stared at it.

The screen was still on, brightness dimmed but not gone, and at first she only glanced at it out of habit. But then her eyes caught the words near the top of the page.

early pregnancy symptoms

Her brows pulled together slightly. Underneath it were more searches.

How soon do symptoms start.
Best foods during pregnancy.
How accurate are tests after a missed period?

Asa stared at the screen for a few seconds longer than she meant to.

Then she let out a slow breath through her nose, somewhere between disbelief and exhausted amusement. “This idiot,” she muttered quietly, though her voice had softened completely now.

Of course you’d been panicking on your own instead of saying anything.

Asa leaned against the counter for a moment, arms folded tightly over herself, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. She hated this feeling, the waiting, the overthinking, the silence stretching too long.

Then she went back to the couch.

And waited.

The front door didn’t open gently.

It slammed.

Asa jolted slightly, looking up just in time to see you burst inside like you had just run a marathon through chaos.

“I got it!” you announced immediately. Then you froze. Because she was staring at you.

And you realised, a beat too late, that you might have just scared your very sick fiancée. “Oh crap— my bad,” you said quickly, dropping the bag onto the table and walking toward her. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she deadpanned. “It’s only a heart attack.”

You winced. “Right. Okay. Noted. I will knock the next time I enter reality.”

She leaned back into the couch, exhausted but watching you. “So…” she said slowly, “what did you do at the chemist?”

You hesitated. Then dumped the entire bag onto the coffee table. At least ten pregnancy tests rolled out in different directions.

Asa stared at them. Then at you. “…What did you do, buy the whole store?”

“I don’t know what to do!” you said immediately, hands raised slightly like you were defending yourself in court. 

She blinked. “And I do?!”

You paused.

“…Yes?”

“No, Y/n,” she said instantly.

“Okay, that’s my bad,” you admitted quickly, already stepping closer. “But can you do the test now?”

Asa stared at you for a long moment.

Then pushed herself up slowly.

“Go sit on the bed.”

“Yes, dear,” you said immediately, already obeying like it was muscle memory.

She shook her head as she walked toward the bathroom. “Unbelievable…”

A few minutes passed. Too few.

Not enough for your brain to stop running through every possible outcome at once. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on your knees, hands clasped tightly together like that could somehow steady the situation.

You weren’t even breathing properly. That's when the bathroom door opened.

Asa stepped out slowly.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just held something in her hand.

The test.

You stood up instantly. “Okay, okay, what is it?”

She looked at you. Then at the test. Then back at you.

“It’s positive.” Silence.

You blinked. “…Okay,” you said.

Asa raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

“Yes,” you nodded quickly, like your brain had decided to short-circuit into calm. “Okay.”

She stared at you. “That’s it?”

You stepped forward immediately. “That’s not it,” you said, voice softening now as you reached for her hands. “It is okay because we will get through this because we have each other and nothing will change that.”

Her breath caught slightly as you pulled her hands up and pressed a kiss to them.

“Okay?” you repeated gently.

Asa stared at you for a second longer.

Then her shoulders finally dropped.

She leaned forward, resting her head against your chest.

And you felt it immediately. The shake. Not panic. Not fear.

Just emotion finally spilling over now that she didn’t have to hold it in.

Your arms wrapped around her instantly.

“I’ve got you,” you murmured, one hand smoothing over her back. “Believe me when I say it will all be okay.”

She let out a shaky breath against you. Then whispered, “Are you sure?”

You pulled back just enough to look at her.

Completely serious now.

“Absolutely,” you said. “I made you a promise when I put this ring on your finger. You know, the second attempt.”

That got a small, broken laugh out of her through everything.

“Even though we aren’t officially married yet,” you continued softly, brushing her hair back, “we will be. And then our family will start. Okay?”

Asa studied your face for a long moment. Like she was grounding herself in you. Then she exhaled slowly. And nodded. “…Okay,” she said again.

This time, quieter.

But certain.