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“Define trouble,” I say.

“Maggie.”

The door opens again. Marco pokes his head in. “Hey, is Maggie in here? Someone said she sprinted like⁠—”

Simone turns slowly.

Marco freezes.

“This is the women’s bathroom,” she says.

“I am aware and leaving immediately.”

“Good choice.”

His head disappears. The door swings shut.

For a second, neither of us moves.

Then Simone says, very quietly, “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She walks to the bathroom door, locks it, and turns back to me.

I stare at her. “You can lock hospital bathrooms?”

“This one, yes.”

“Is that allowed?”

“No. Talk.”

I sit on the closed toilet lid because my legs feel unreliable. Simone leans against the sink, arms crossed, face calm but eyes fixed on me.

There is no way around it now.

I take a breath. “I’m pregnant.”

Simone doesn’t blink. For one long second, she’s perfectly still.

Then she says, “Okay.”

That’s all.

Okay.

Not what? Not how? Not oh my God. Just okay, in a voice so steady it nearly undoes me.

I look down at my hands. “I’m four weeks.”

“Confirmed?”

“Blood test. Repeat bloodwork rising appropriately. Early appointment this morning.”

Her expression shifts at the clinical details. “Symptoms?”

“Nausea. Fatigue. Mood swings, probably, unless I’ve always been this charming.”

“You have always been this charming.”

I laugh once. It comes out shaky.