"And Nick?" Her eyes meet mine, concerned but kind. "How's he handling all this?"
Heat rises in my cheeks. "It's Nick."
Amara's expression softens slightly. "I thought as much. The compatibility signs were quite evident, even then." She leans against the counter. "Look, I know this is personal, but I've seen enough of these situations to know when someone needs to talk. Is that alright?"
I nod, bracing myself.
"Was this bond planned?"
"No." The word comes out barely above a whisper. "It was...accidental. During the final wave of my heat."
"I see. And how are you both handling the adjustment?"
The question hits deeper than I expected. "It's...complicated."
"New bonds can be rough, especially unplanned ones. And when one person's never been with a male omega before..." She trails off, studying my face. "Sometimes the reality doesn't match what people expect."
I swallow hard. "What do you mean?"
"Heat bonds can feel incredibly intense when they're forming. But when things calm down, sometimes the emotional connection isn't what people thought it was." Her voice is gentlebut frank. "I've seen alphas struggle when they realize a bond doesn't change their fundamental feelings about who they're attracted to."
Each word cuts deep. This is my worst fear, spelled out by someone who's seen it happen before.
"Are you saying...?"
"I'm saying new bonds are fragile, especially when there are complications. The stress you're showing suggests there might be unresolved issues affecting how stable this is."
She pauses, studying my face carefully. "There's also another possibility we should discuss. Breakthrough heats like yours, particularly those triggered by compatibility with a specific alpha, sometimes result in conception."
The room tilts around me. "Conception," I repeat, the word feeling foreign on my tongue. "You think I might be..."
"Pregnant? Maybe." Her voice is gentle now, recognizing the impact of her words. "Heat like yours, especially with that level of compatibility? It happens. And pregnancy hormones can make the bond feel stronger, which might explain why separation is hitting you so hard."
My medical training kicks in, providing facts when emotions threaten to overwhelm me. Breakthrough heats. Increased fertility. Compatibility-triggered ovulation. All the clinical terms for what might have happened between Nick and me.
"What should I watch for?" I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.
"The usual early signs, but male omegas sometimes get hit harder with mood swings and bond-dependency if there's a pregnancy. Still too early for testing to be reliable though." Her tone becomes more professional. "I'm going to talk to Tanya about having you go home for the rest of the week. Bond stress, with or without pregnancy, needs rest."
"Amara, I can't—"
"You can and you will." Her tone brooks no argument. "And think about couples counseling. There are people who specialize in unexpected bonds, especially when someone's orientation gets...complicated."
Couples counseling. As if Nick and I are actually a couple, rather than two friends who accidentally tied themselves together and are now trying to figure out what that means.
"Thank you," I manage. "I appreciate you looking out for me."
"Of course." She touches my shoulder briefly. "Micah? Bonds can work out, even the messy ones. But both people have to be honest about what they're feeling and what they need. Don't let fear stop you from having the hard conversations."
Her words follow me as I gather my things and explain my early departure to a concerned but unsurprised Tanya. Honesty about expectations and feelings. That's exactly what I've been avoiding, isn't it? Because I'm terrified of the answers.
The bus ride home is a blur of anxiety and physical discomfort. Every jolt and turn amplifies the bond-ache, and by the time I reach my stop, nausea has joined the symphony of symptoms. Morning sickness or bond-separation? I can't tell anymore, and that uncertainty is almost worse than either option.
Instead of going straight home, I stop at the pharmacy three blocks from my apartment. The pregnancy test section feels like a neon sign pointing to my problems. I stand there, staring at the options, feeling simultaneously ridiculous and terrified.
"Can I help you find something?" A cheerful clerk appears at my elbow, making me jump.
"No, I'm fine, thanks." I grab a test kit without really looking at it and hurry to the checkout, avoiding eye contact with the cashier.