The Next Morning
Riya barely slept that night.
Even with Ava's comforting presence and the soft hum of the house surrounding her, her mind wouldn't quiet. She had stared at the ceiling for hours, one hand resting gently over her stomach, trying to process the new life growing inside her—and the void left by the one who should've known first.
Morning light crept through the curtains, casting pale stripes across the room. She sat at the kitchen table, a mug of untouched tea growing cold in her hands. Ava had gone to work early, after checking on her at least three times. She'd offered to stay, but Riya had insisted she'd be okay.
She wasn't sure if that was true.
The quiet was almost too loud. Every moment ticked by slowly, until she couldn't put it off any longer.
She reached for her phone with trembling fingers and scrolled through her contacts, stopping at Mum. Her thumb hovered over the screen for a second before she tapped Call.
The phone rang twice before a familiar, warm voice answered.
"Riya? Sweetheart, is everything alright?"
Riya swallowed hard. "Hi, Mum. Yeah. I just… I need to tell you something. And Michael too, if he's around."
There was a pause on the line, then her mother's voice softened. "Of course. Hold on, I'll put you on speaker."
A moment later, she heard Michael's voice join in, concerned but calm. "Hey, Riya. What's going on?"
Riya inhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around the mug. "I went to the hospital yesterday. I'd been feeling really off—tired, dizzy. I thought it was stress, maybe leftover grief..."
Her voice wavered, and she heard her mum's soft intake of breath.
"I'm pregnant," Riya said, the words rushing out before she could second-guess them. "Three months. I didn't even know until yesterday."
Silence filled the other end of the call. For a moment, she thought the line had dropped.
Then her mum's voice came through, soft, stunned. "Oh… Riya."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," Riya whispered. "I didn't know. I really didn't. I just… everything's been a mess since Justin. And now this—this is his baby. And he's not here. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how to do this without him."
Michael cleared his throat gently. "You don't have to know everything right now. You just have to breathe. One step at a time, alright?"
Her mother chimed in, her voice thick with emotion. "Riya, honey, we're here. Whatever you need, however we can help—you won't go through this alone. I promise you that."
Tears welled in Riya's eyes again, but this time they came slower. She wasn't sure if they were from relief or sorrow. Maybe both.
"Thank you," she said, her voice barely audible. "I just… needed you to know."
Her mum's voice was steadier now, full of warmth. "We'll come see you this weekend. I'll bring that tea you like, the one from the village store."
Michael added, "And we'll help figure out the rest. Doctor visits, baby stuff—all of it. Together."
For the first time in days, Riya let herself close her eyes and breathe a little deeper. The ache in her chest was still there. The longing for Justin hadn't eased. But something else stirred inside her now—something fragile, but steady.
Maybe she could do this.
Not alone.
Not completely.
A Few Days Later
Riya had spent the past few days in a haze of exhaustion, her body still adjusting to the shock of the pregnancy and the overwhelming emotions that accompanied it. But something shifted. Slowly, she began to find her footing again. She started taking things one step at a time—calling the doctor for follow-ups, organizing her thoughts, and preparing herself for the changes to come.
She was still grieving Justin, and she always would. The pain of his absence seemed to pulse through her with every breath. But she couldn't let it define her. Not anymore.
It wasn't easy, but she started making progress. Riya found herself walking through the motions of life once more, one foot in front of the other. She was still teaching, still showing up for her students, even if every part of her longed to just stop and give in to the sadness.
That morning, she was greeted by the familiar sound of chattering students as they filed into her classroom. The lesson went by in a blur, her mind half on the material, half on the growing life inside her. But she noticed something odd—the students were whispering amongst themselves more than usual, exchanging knowing glances.
It wasn't until the bell rang for the end of class that one of her students, Emma, stood up hesitantly and approached her desk, holding a small, carefully wrapped gift.
"Miss McKenzie," she said softly, "we… we wanted to give you something."
Riya blinked in surprise as a few other students started walking up, each with a small gift in their hands. Some were wrapped in plain paper, others in colorful, cheerful designs. She looked at them, unable to mask the mix of emotions on her face—gratefulness, confusion, and a deep ache she still couldn't quite shake.
"You didn't have to do this," Riya said, her voice trembling a little.
"We know," Emma replied, her voice warm, "but we wanted to. You've been so kind to us, and we know you've been going through a lot. We just… wanted to show you that we care."
Riya swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. It was the first time anyone had really acknowledged her struggle so openly, and it caught her off guard.
"Thank you," she said, her voice a little hoarse. "This… means a lot to me."
The students smiled, a few offering words of encouragement. They didn't need to say anything more; Riya understood the silent support they were offering. With a soft nod, she carefully took the small packages, her fingers brushing against their smooth surfaces.
As the students filed out of the room, Riya remained at her desk for a moment, staring at the gifts before her. She felt something stir deep within her—something fragile but fierce. The tiny flicker of hope, of connection, that maybe—just maybe—she could make it through this.
She wasn't alone, not entirely.
The realization made her chest tighten, but in a way that felt more comforting than overwhelming. Her students, her friends, Ava, and her family—they were all there. They cared. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Riya allowed herself to believe she could carry on, even in the face of everything.
The gifts, though simple, were a symbol. A reminder that life, despite its challenges and heartbreaks, kept moving forward.
Riya stood up, her hand resting briefly on her stomach, and exhaled. She still had a long road ahead of her, but she wasn't walking it alone. Not anymore.
With a deep breath, she tucked the gifts into her bag and prepared herself for the next chapter. The next step. Because, for better or worse, there was a life inside her that needed her—just as much as she needed it.
And maybe, just maybe, she was ready to embrace that.
That Afternoon
After lunch, Riya walked back into her classroom feeling… different. Not lighter, exactly. But something had shifted. She felt weirdly energized—like a current was humming just beneath her skin. Maybe it was the kindness from her students earlier that morning. Maybe it was the way she'd finally started to breathe again. Whatever it was, it gave her just enough momentum to push through the fatigue.
She glanced at the gifts still sitting on her desk and smiled. Their thoughtfulness had stayed with her all day, grounding her, reminding her she wasn't as alone as she felt.
Today's lesson was one she always looked forward to: class debate. It was a little chaotic, sure, but it was fun. And she needed a bit of that.
As the bell rang and the students filtered in, the room buzzed with energy. They seemed to pick up on her mood instantly.
"Alright," Riya called out, clapping her hands once. "Debate day. Let's keep it civil—and by civil, I mean no shouting about why the movie version of your favorite book 'ruined your childhood.'"
Laughter rippled through the classroom.
"Miss McKenzie, no more pineapple on pizza debates, please," Liam groaned.
She grinned. "Fine, fine. We'll keep it classic today. 'Books vs. Movies: Which tells a better story?' You know the drill—split up, get your points ready, and prepare for battle."
The students dove into preparation, buzzing with ideas and snappy comebacks. Riya walked between the desks, offering the occasional tip or raised eyebrow of encouragement. And all the while, that strange, welcome energy remained. She didn't feel so heavy anymore.
As the debate began, the room came alive. Arguments were flung with enthusiasm, metaphors mixed hilariously, and points were passionately defended. Riya couldn't help but laugh—really laugh—at some of their antics.
"Great point, Harper," she said, amused. "But let's tone down the dramatics before you actually reenact a sword fight from Game of Thrones."
"But that's the point, Miss!" Harper insisted. "The visuals!"
By the end of class, her cheeks actually hurt from smiling. Her students had kept things light, respectful, and surprisingly thoughtful. And while they didn't coddle her, she could feel their quiet care—giving her space when she needed it, but letting her know they were there.
"You're in a good mood today, Miss," Emma said as she packed up.
Riya paused for a beat, then nodded. "Yeah… I guess I am."
When the last of the students left, she remained at her desk for a moment, hand resting on her growing belly. The grief hadn't disappeared, but for the first time in a while, something stronger had started to rise through it—purpose. Maybe even hope.
She wasn't just functioning anymore.
She was teaching. She was laughing.
She was starting to feel alive again.
Two Days Later
The good mood from debate day lingered in small ways—Riya found herself humming while grading papers, laughing more easily in the staffroom, and catching herself daydreaming about the baby. She'd even started sketching out lesson plans for the next month, something she hadn't had the energy to do in weeks.
But on Thursday morning, something tugged her attention off course.
It was during second period, when her Year 10 class was working quietly on a writing assignment. Riya was walking between the rows of desks when she paused by Noah, one of her quieter students. He always sat near the back, eyes usually lowered, voice barely above a whisper. A brilliant thinker, she'd discovered, but someone who rarely volunteered to speak.
Today, though, when he reached across his desk to grab his pen, his sleeve rode up just enough for her to catch sight of something.
A deep purple bruise, fading at the edges. Just above his wrist.
Her chest tightened.
She didn't say anything immediately. Instead, she continued walking, pretending she hadn't seen. But her mind was spinning.
When the bell rang and the students began to file out, she called softly, "Noah? Can you hang back for a second?"
He stopped, hesitated, then nodded. The classroom emptied, leaving only the two of them.
Riya sat on the edge of her desk, keeping her tone gentle. "I just wanted to check in. You doing alright?"
Noah shrugged. "Yeah. I'm fine."
She offered a small smile. "I noticed a bruise on your arm earlier. Looked painful."
Noah's gaze dropped to the floor, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "It's nothing. I just… tripped over my bike."
Riya tilted her head slightly, not pushing—but not backing off either. She recognized that tone. The same deflection she used to give when someone asked about her own struggles after Justin.
"I understand," she said softly. "But if there's ever anything you want to talk about—or if something isn't okay at home—you can come to me. I'm here."
He didn't respond right away. Just nodded, a little too quickly, and hurried out the door.
Riya sat there for a moment, heart heavy. She didn't want to jump to conclusions. But something didn't sit right. The bruise, his hesitation, the way his eyes had avoided hers...
That afternoon, she slipped into the counselor's office and quietly flagged what she'd seen. Discreet. No accusations. Just concern.
She left the office feeling unsettled. But also certain. She'd spent too long letting her own pain make her feel powerless. Not anymore. She was a teacher, yes—but also a protector. And if even one of her students was hurting, she would do something about it.
That night, as she lay in bed, one hand over her belly, she thought about Noah. About her students. About the life growing inside her—and the world she wanted to shape for it. One where kindness didn't go unnoticed, where pain didn't have to hide behind silence.
She closed her eyes with a quiet promise: No one gets left behind. Not on her watch.
One Week Later
The days passed slowly after that conversation with Noah. Every time Riya saw him in class—shoulders hunched, eyes low—her worry grew. She kept her distance, letting the counselor do their part, but her heart remained tangled with concern. She didn't want to push him. She just wanted him to know he had a safe place, whenever he was ready.
It wasn't until the following Thursday, during her lunch break, that she finally saw a shift.
Riya was sitting at her desk, nibbling on a granola bar and organizing papers, when there was a soft knock at the door.
She looked up. "Come in."
The door creaked open, and Noah peeked inside. His hands were stuffed deep into his hoodie pockets, and his eyes flicked around nervously before landing on her.
"Hi, Miss."
Riya straightened in her chair, her heart thudding gently. "Hey, Noah. You alright?"
He hesitated in the doorway. "Can I… can I sit?"
"Of course," she said gently, gesturing to the chair across from her. "Take your time."
Noah stepped in and closed the door behind him before lowering himself into the chair. He stared at the floor for a long moment, the silence stretching out between them. Riya didn't rush him.
Finally, he spoke. "I didn't trip off my bike."
Riya's breath caught, but she kept her expression calm, her voice steady. "Okay."
"It wasn't an accident," he mumbled. "It was my stepdad."
She nodded slowly, her chest tightening. "Thank you for telling me. That's really brave, Noah."
He rubbed his hands over his knees. "I didn't want to say anything. I thought… I don't know. That maybe it would just stop if I ignored it."
"I get that," she said softly. "Sometimes when things feel too big or scary, it's easier to pretend they're not happening. But I'm really glad you came to talk to me."
Tears clung to the edges of his lashes, but he blinked them away quickly. "He gets angry a lot. At my mum, too. She always tells me not to worry about it, but I do. I worry all the time."
Riya's throat ached. "Noah… you shouldn't have to live like that. No one should. You deserve to feel safe. At home, and everywhere else."
He nodded, finally lifting his eyes to hers. "Can you help?"
"Yes," she said without hesitation. "We'll take this the right way—get the counselor involved again, talk to the people who can help you and your mum. You're not alone, okay?"
For the first time, she saw something in his face that hadn't been there before—relief. Just a flicker, but it was there.
"Okay," he said quietly. "Thank you, Miss."
"You're welcome. And… I'm proud of you."
He gave a small, shy smile. "You kind of remind me of my sister. She used to look out for me too."
Riya's heart squeezed. "Then she sounds like someone very special."
"She was."
The silence between them now felt softer. Safer.
After a few more minutes, Noah stood. "I should probably get to class."
Riya nodded. "I'll walk with you, alright?"
"Okay."
As they stepped into the hallway together, Riya felt the weight in her chest lighten just a little. The world wasn't perfect—far from it. But maybe, with compassion and a little courage, they could carve out pockets of safety. Of healing.
For her baby. For Noah. For all of them.
And she'd be damned if she didn't try.