I didn’t fake a pregnancy test because I wanted a baby.
I faked it because I wanted him to stay.
My name is Hailey Monroe, I’m twenty-seven, and I’d been dating Ryan Keller for a year—long enough for his toothbrush to live in my bathroom, but not long enough for him to stop keeping one foot near the exit. Ryan was charming in public and cautious in private. Anytime I asked where we were headed, he’d kiss my forehead and say, “Let’s not rush a good thing.”
Then I found out he’d been interviewing for a job in Seattle. Not “thinking about it”—interviewing. And he didn’t tell me until the offer was basically real.
“I didn’t want to stress you out,” he said, eyes careful, voice soft like he was reading from a script.
Stress me out. Right. Like my feelings were a fragile object he could put back on a shelf.
I smiled and said I understood. Then I went home and spiraled.
I told myself I just needed time. Time to make him hesitate. Time to make him look at me like I mattered enough to choose. My brain chased every option, and then it landed on the worst one—because it would work fast.
Two days later, I met Ryan at my apartment. I had a small shopping bag on the counter and a look on my face I’d practiced in the mirror: pale, shaken, brave.
He noticed immediately. “Hailey… what’s going on?”
I slid a home test box across the counter with trembling hands. “I didn’t know how to say this,” I whispered. “I’m late.”
Ryan’s whole body changed. His mouth opened, then shut. He stared at the box like it was ticking.
“You… you’re pregnant?” he asked.
I nodded once and let my eyes shine like I was holding back tears. It wasn’t hard. I wasn’t crying because of the lie—I was crying because I wanted the reaction.
Ryan sat down hard on the couch. “Okay,” he breathed. “Okay. We’ll figure it out.”
For a moment, I felt powerful. Not in a proud way. In a desperate way—like I’d finally grabbed something that was slipping.
Then my best friend Olivia Hart stopped by. She took one look at Ryan’s face and my performance, and her eyes narrowed.
“What happened?” she demanded.
Ryan said it before I could. “Hailey thinks she’s pregnant.”
Olivia blinked, then looked straight at me. “Thinks?”
I forced a laugh. “It was positive.”
Olivia didn’t smile. She pulled out her phone. “No guessing. We do this right. My cousin’s a doctor—Dr. Marcus Hart. He’s on call at the clinic. We’ll go tonight.”
My stomach dropped so fast I felt dizzy.
I tried to stall. “Liv, it’s late—”
She was already grabbing her keys. “If it’s real, you need care. If it’s not, you need answers.”
Ryan stood up, still pale. “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go.”
In the car, Olivia drove like she was chasing a fire. Ryan kept reaching for my hand, squeezing it like he was anchoring himself.
And I sat there thinking one terrible thought:
If a real doctor reads this… I’m done.
At the clinic, Dr. Marcus Hart greeted us with calm eyes and a professional smile. He glanced at me, then at Ryan.
“Tell me what’s going on,” he said.
Olivia crossed her arms. “She got a positive home test.”
Dr. Hart nodded once. “Okay. We’ll confirm properly.”
He held out a specimen cup and said gently, “Hailey, we’ll do a standard test. It won’t take long.”
My throat tightened. My hands went numb.
Because I knew the next few minutes would decide everything.
Part 2
The bathroom felt too bright, too clean—like the kind of place where lies couldn’t survive.
I stared at myself in the mirror, gripping the sink until my knuckles whitened. I could still walk out. I could say I was overwhelmed. I could pretend I’d suddenly gotten my period. I could invent anything.
But Ryan was sitting in the waiting room believing he was about to become a father.
And Olivia—sharp, loyal, suspicious Olivia—was watching me like she already smelled smoke.
I filled the cup, washed my hands, and stepped back out with a steady face that didn’t match my pulse.
Dr. Hart took the sample and disappeared behind a door. Olivia leaned close and whispered, “Are you okay?”
I nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just scared.”
Ryan reached for my hand again. “Whatever happens,” he said quietly, “we’ll deal with it.”
The words hit me harder than I expected. For one second, guilt wasn’t a tiny ache—it was a full-body weight. I almost confessed right there.
Then Dr. Hart returned with a tablet and a small paper printout. He didn’t look dramatic. He looked… careful.
“Hailey,” he said, voice calm, “the clinic test is negative.”
My chest went hollow. Olivia’s eyebrows shot up. Ryan blinked like he didn’t understand the language.
“That can’t be right,” I said automatically, too fast, too loud.
Dr. Hart held up a hand, still gentle. “False positives are rare but possible with certain medications or issues. However—” He paused, then looked at me directly. “Olivia told me you had a positive home test. Do you have it with you?”
I hadn’t brought it. I’d thrown it out like evidence. “No,” I said. “I—I didn’t think—”
Olivia’s head tilted. “You threw it away?”
“I was panicking,” I said, trying to keep my voice shaky in the right way.
Dr. Hart nodded slowly, not buying it. “Okay,” he said. “One more option: we can do a blood test today and remove uncertainty.”
Ryan exhaled like he was drowning. “Please,” he said. “Do it.”
Olivia stared at me. “Unless there’s a reason not to.”
My throat tightened. I could feel my face heating—one of those moments where your body betrays you before your words do.
“I don’t like needles,” I whispered.
Olivia’s eyes narrowed further. “Since when?”
Dr. Hart watched us like a referee who already knew who was lying. “It’s your choice,” he said. “But if you’re relying on a home test, you need confirmation.”
Ryan’s voice turned small. “Hailey… why are you fighting this?”
I opened my mouth and nothing came out clean. My thoughts tangled: Seattle. Leaving. Don’t go. None of it was an answer that would sound sane out loud.
Dr. Hart waited. “Hailey,” he said quietly, “I’m not here to judge you. I’m here to give medical facts. The urine test is negative. A blood test will be definitive.”
Olivia stepped back like she’d connected a wire in her head. “Oh my God,” she said softly. “Did you… make this up?”
Ryan’s head turned toward me so slowly it felt like a slow-motion crash. “Hailey,” he said, voice cracking, “tell me you didn’t.”
My vision blurred. Not because I was acting anymore.
Because there was no version of the truth that didn’t destroy me.
I swallowed hard and whispered, “I didn’t want you to leave.”
The silence that followed wasn’t normal silence.
It was the kind that changes relationships permanently.
Part 3
Ryan didn’t explode. He didn’t shout. He just stared at me like he was trying to reconcile the person he knew with the person standing in front of him.
Olivia’s mouth fell open. “Hailey… what the hell?” she whispered.
Dr. Hart set his clipboard down and spoke softly, professional but firm. “Ryan, Olivia—why don’t you both take a seat?”
Ryan didn’t sit. He took a step back instead, like distance could protect him. “You lied,” he said, voice flat. “You made me think I was going to be a dad.”
I nodded, tears spilling now for real. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I panicked. I heard about Seattle and—”
“So you tried to trap me?” His voice finally sharpened on that last word, and it cut.
“I didn’t think of it like that,” I pleaded, immediately hating how weak it sounded. “I thought if you felt how serious this is, you’d—”
“You’d what?” Olivia snapped. “Stay out of guilt? Marry you out of fear?”
Dr. Hart raised a hand. “Olivia,” he said gently. Then he looked at me. “Hailey, I’m going to say this carefully: using pregnancy as leverage is emotionally harmful to everyone involved. If you’re struggling with anxiety or abandonment fears, that’s something to address with support—not deception.”
I flinched at how calm he was. Calm made it impossible to hide behind drama.
Ryan shook his head, eyes wet but angry. “I was ready to rearrange my entire life,” he said. “I was already picturing telling my parents. And you were… acting.”
“I know,” I sobbed. “I know. I hated myself the whole time.”
Olivia crossed her arms, furious and hurt. “You dragged my cousin into this,” she said. “You made me defend you.”
I wiped my face with shaking hands. “I didn’t think you’d push for a clinic,” I admitted, and the second the words left my mouth I realized how ugly they were.
Ryan’s jaw tightened. “So you weren’t planning to come clean,” he said. Not a question.
I didn’t answer, because the answer was written all over my silence.
Dr. Hart cleared his throat. “Ryan, I can walk you through resources if you need,” he offered. “And Hailey—if you want to speak with someone about the fear that drove this, I can give referrals.”
Ryan finally looked away from me. “I’m leaving,” he said quietly. Then he looked at me one last time. “Don’t call me. Don’t show up at my place. Just… don’t.”
He turned and walked out.
Olivia hesitated—like she wanted to stay, like loyalty was pulling her in two directions. Then she followed him, pausing only to say, “I hope you get help. But I can’t cover for you.”
The door shut, and the room felt enormous.
I sat down in the clinic chair and pressed my palms to my eyes. Dr. Hart didn’t lecture me. He just handed me a tissue and said, “Do you understand why they feel betrayed?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “Because I turned love into a test.”
He nodded once. “Then start there.”
If you were Ryan, would you ever forgive something like this—or is it a relationship-ending line no matter what? And if you were Olivia, would you cut me off or stay close enough to make sure I got help?
Tell me what you think in the comments—because I know people are going to disagree about whether someone like me deserves a second chance.
