Figure It Out Together

 I stood in front of the mirror, my hands resting gently on my baby bump, tracing the curve of my swollen belly. The wedding dress clung to me in ways that both comforted and surprised me. Eight months pregnant, and here I was, about to marry my best friend, Kyle. I smiled at the thought, my mind wandering back over the last few months — the unbelievable journey that led me here.

The transformation had been unexpected, to say the least. It all started with Kyle needing a date for his sister’s wedding. He’d asked me, his best friend, to help him out. Little did I know that helping him meant being transformed into a woman by some magical medallion he’d found — the Medallion of Zulo. It was supposed to be temporary, just for one night, to keep up appearances. I never imagined it would lead to this moment, standing here, a woman, carrying Kyle’s child, and preparing to marry him.

Those first few days after the transformation were a blur of confusion and uncertainty. I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror. My body felt alien — the curves, the softness, the way my clothes clung to me. I remember trying to walk in heels for the first time and nearly breaking my neck.

“Kyle, I don’t know if I can do this,” I had said, standing in front of him in a dress, teetering on those ridiculous shoes.

He had just laughed and said, “You’ll be fine. Just for one night. And you look... amazing.”

Despite the awkwardness, we made it through the wedding. But that night, things changed between us. What was supposed to be a simple favor for a friend turned into something more. We crossed a line I hadn’t expected, and the next morning, as I lay in his bed, my mind raced with thoughts I couldn’t quite make sense of.

Days turned into weeks, and before I knew it, I started feeling off. I brushed it off at first — the nausea, the fatigue — thinking it was just my body adjusting to the transformation. But then, one morning, as I stared at the calendar, it hit me. My period hadn’t come. Panic set in, and I grabbed a pregnancy test, my hands shaking as I waited for the results.

Two pink lines.

I stared at the test, my mind spinning. I’m pregnant. The reality of it sank in slowly, and with it, a flood of emotions — fear, confusion, disbelief. How was I supposed to tell Kyle? How would he react?

When I finally worked up the nerve to tell him, I sat him down on the couch, my heart pounding in my chest. “Kyle,” I started, my voice trembling, “I... I think I’m pregnant.”

His eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, he just stared at me, speechless. I could see the gears turning in his head, trying to process what I had just said.

“You’re... pregnant?” he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, my hands fidgeting in my lap. “Yeah. I took a test, and... it’s positive.”

Kyle sat back, his expression a mix of shock and something else — something softer. He ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. “Wow... okay. Um... wow.” He paused, then looked at me with a seriousness I hadn’t seen before. “We’ll figure this out,” he said, reaching for my hand. “We’re in this together.”

Those words, simple as they were, calmed my racing heart. From that moment on, everything changed. The shock of being pregnant faded, replaced by a growing sense of connection — not just to the baby, but to my new identity. My body changed quickly after that. My belly started to grow, and with each passing week, I felt more comfortable in my own skin. The pregnancy made me feel more grounded, more at ease with being a woman.

But the real turning point came when Kyle proposed.

I was about five months along by then. My belly was just starting to show, a small but noticeable bump. I remember feeling the baby’s first flutters around that time, little movements that made me pause and smile, realizing there was a life growing inside me. Kyle had been amazing throughout everything. He helped me through the morning sickness, came to every doctor’s appointment, and always made sure I was comfortable. But I didn’t expect what came next.

It was a quiet evening. We were sitting on the couch, watching some old movie we’d seen a dozen times before. I had my feet up on the coffee table, one hand absentmindedly resting on my belly, when Kyle suddenly turned to me, looking more serious than usual.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to take my hand. “Can we talk?”

I blinked, a little surprised by the change in his tone. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

He shifted in his seat, his fingers still intertwined with mine. “I’ve been thinking a lot about... us,” he started, glancing down at my belly before looking back into my eyes. “About this baby, and what it means for our future.”

I felt my heart skip a beat. There was something in his eyes, a kind of nervousness I wasn’t used to seeing from him.

“I know this wasn’t planned,” he continued, “and I know neither of us expected to end up here, but... I don’t want to keep pretending like this is just temporary. This isn’t just about the baby. It’s about us.”

I stared at him, trying to process his words. “Kyle, what are you saying?”

He took a deep breath, then slowly got down on one knee in front of me. My heart stopped. “I’m saying that I love you,” he said, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “I’ve loved you for a long time, even before all of this happened. And now, with this baby... I want to build a life together. I want us to be a family. So, will you marry me?”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I stared at him, my mind racing. I hadn’t expected this, not so soon. But as I looked down at him, at the man who had been my best friend for so long and now the father of my child, I knew that my answer was clear.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He slid the ring onto my finger, and in that moment, everything felt right. It wasn’t just about the baby anymore. It was about us, our future, and the life we were building together.

From that moment on, the pregnancy seemed to bring us even closer. My belly grew larger, my body more accustomed to the new life inside me, and with each passing day, I felt more at ease with my new identity. The baby’s kicks became a daily reminder of the life Kyle and I were creating together. Every little flutter, every movement from our child, made me smile, made me feel more connected to this body I had once been so unsure of.

Now, eight months pregnant, standing here in my wedding dress, I couldn’t help but think about how far we had come. What had started as a joke, a simple favor for a friend, had turned into something beautiful. I wasn’t just carrying a child. I was carrying our child, preparing to marry the man who had been by my side through all of it.

“Kyle,” I called softly as he stood nearby, adjusting his tie. “I’m ready.”

He turned to look at me, his eyes softening as they swept over my belly, then up to my face. “You look beautiful,” he said, coming over to kiss my forehead.

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me. “I can’t believe this is happening,” I whispered, my hand resting protectively over our child. “But I’m happy. I really am.”

Kyle nodded, his hand joining mine on my belly. “Me too,” he whispered. “We’re going to be a family.”

And with that, I knew everything would be okay. We weren’t just best friends anymore. We were partners, parents-to-be, and soon, husband and wife. And no matter what twists life threw our way, we’d figure it out together.