The Sunny was quiet in the way it only ever got just before dawn—the sea a dark, endless mirror, the sails barely whispering. Below deck, the only light came from the small lamp in the women's quarters, where Y/n sat alone on her bunk, knees drawn to her chest.

In her hands, the test strip was still faintly warm. Two lines. Unmistakable. She'd stared at it for so long the edges had started to blur.

It had been one night. One stupid, reckless, alcohol-soaked night weeks ago. Zoro had been—well, Zoro. And she'd been lonely. They'd agreed it was a mistake. Shook on it, even. And it had been fine. Perfectly fine. Until the nausea started. Until she realized her period was late.

Now she sat there, heart pounding like a war drum, with the weight of a secret already pressing down on her chest. Somewhere above deck, the lookout post creaked. Zoro was probably up there, asleep or training, with absolutely no idea that his life had just changed.

A floorboard shifted in the hallway. Someone was awake.