She has some news

Mia does not start with work.

“I have news,” she says. Her voice is bright. Careful around the edges. “I’m pregnant.”

The kitchen goes quiet. Adam’s hand stays on the phone. Lana, halfway through setting a plate down, stops. Shock first. Both of them. The word sits in the room like something that does not belong to the six-month plan.

Mia is smiling. They can hear it.

“Mia,” Adam says.

“I know. I felt dizzy. Twice. I went and got checked. That’s the result. Early. But real.”

The shock thins. Adam’s face changes. The smile comes, slower than hers, then real.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Blood test. They told me this afternoon. I called you first.”

Lana sits. She does not speak yet. She watches him.

“The company,” Mia says. “I told them. They agreed. I don’t have to stay the six months. They’re pulling me back. Putting me on a local project so I can be home.”

Adam laughs once, short, the sound of a man who just got something he did not know he was waiting for.

“When?”

“Tickets are booked. I leave tomorrow night. I’m back the following morning. I’ll text you the flight details.”

“I’ll be there,” he says. “Text me everything. Gate. Time. I’ll be at the door.”

“I will.” She is happy. It is uncomplicated on her end. “I can’t wait to be home. I can’t wait to tell you the rest in person. Remy’s already been told she’s staying. That’s her problem. Mine is a plane and you.”

“Come home,” Adam says.

They talk a little longer. Practical things. What she wants from the apartment. Whether to tell anyone else yet. Mia says not yet. Adam says whatever she wants. Lana stays quiet, smiling when Mia asks if she is there, saying congratulations in a voice that is genuine and already somewhere else. Mia thanks her.

The call ends warm. Mia happy. Adam ecstatic. The phone goes face down on the table.

Then the quiet.

Adam looks at Lana. Lana looks at Adam.

The news is still good. The pregnancy is still real. Mia is still leaving for home tomorrow night, walking through the door the morning after, the real wife.

And the other thing arrives behind it.

Their needs. The morning that was not a rule. The blowjobs that turned tender. The six months that were supposed to be a container for all of it. Gone. Compressed into a day and a flight.

Lana’s smile fades at the edges. Adam’s does too.

“She’s coming back,” Lana says.

“Yeah.”

Neither of them says the rest out loud yet. They do not have to. The needs will not be met the same way. The pretend wife goes. The real one lands. Whatever they have been feeding each other in this apartment has an expiration date that just moved from six months to two days.

They sit with it. Happy for Mia. Happy for the baby. And underneath, the realization, cold and clear, that the thing they just built does not survive her walking through the door.