Chapter Text
The two lines came like a death sentence.
Elphaba stood frozen in the small dormitory bathroom for far too long, the test trembling between her fingers. Two lines. So simple. So definitive. So cruel.
For weeks, she had pretended it didn’t exist.
The nausea was stress.
The exhaustion, too much studying.
The delayed period, just her body out of balance.
Everything had an explanation. Everything had an excuse.
Until it didn’t anymore.
The bathroom felt too small now. The mirror reflected a version of herself Elphaba didn’t recognize — wide eyes, shallow breathing, her green skin a paler shade than usual.
“No…” she murmured, as if the word had the power to erase those lines. “No, no, no…”
But the test remained unchanged, almost as if it were mocking her despair.
That same day, she bought another one. And then another. Her hands sweated every time she closed the bathroom door, her heart racing as she counted the seconds dragging by.
Two lines.
Two lines.
And… two lines again.
By the third test, she didn’t have the strength to throw it away.
She sank down onto the cold floor, her back against the door, staring at those marks as if she could still negotiate with reality.
One test could fail.
Two were unlikely.
But three… three were an undeniable truth.
She was pregnant.
The green girl sat slowly on the edge of the bathtub, as if her body had suddenly lost weight. A nervous laugh slipped from her throat.
Birth control was ninety-nine percent effective, they said. Ninety-nine — an almost perfect number. Apparently, she had been chosen to represent the remaining one percent. Luck had never been on her side since birth; it made sense that statistics would decide to confirm that now.
“This can’t be happening. Not now…” she whispered.
Not when, for the first time, things finally seemed to be going right. She had friends at Shiz — real friends. She was excelling in her studies (even more so), especially in sorcery. Madame Morrible looked at her as someone who might soon catch the attention of the Wizard himself.
She even had a boyfriend. Someone who, against all her instincts, made her believe she could be loved. But despite trusting Fiyero’s feelings, she couldn’t ignore the fact that before her, none of the prince’s relationships had lasted more than two weeks.
He certainly wasn’t ready for something like this.
For a responsibility that would change everything, forever.
Besides, that child wouldn’t be just their baby.
It would be an illegitimate heir to the throne of Vinkus. A political scandal.
A direct affront to Fiyero’s parents.
And her father…
Sweet Oz, her father would probably kill her. If he didn’t die first from shame and disappointment. Once again, she would be the mistake. The stain on the Thropp family’s reputation.
The test slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a dull sound.
Then came the final realization. The most terrifying one of all.
What if the child was green like her?
The air left her lungs. Suddenly, she wasn’t in the bathroom anymore. She saw unfamiliar faces laughing, other children pointing, teachers looking away. The world repeating, like a cruel echo, the same script she had known since she learned how to walk.
Another wave of nausea hit without warning, stronger than all the others. Elphaba bent forward, gripping the edge of the sink as her stomach twisted violently. A bitter taste rose in her throat, and for a moment she thought she might vomit right there.
“No…” she whispered again. “I can’t condemn another child to this existence.”
The next thought didn’t come gently. It came as a raw, automatic, violent reflex:
I need to find a way to get this out of me.
…
In the days that followed, Elphaba tried to pretend nothing had changed. She wore the same clothes, walked the same corridors, opened the same books. She tried to be the same Elphaba as always — focused, hardworking, controlled.
It worked… for a few minutes at a time.
Her body, however, refused to pretend.
The nausea came without warning, like a sudden wave that made her drop everything and rush out of class. Food had lost its usual taste. Sometimes, just the smell was enough to make her swallow hard. Her face took on a strange tone, even by the standards of her green skin. And every so often, she caught herself dozing off anywhere, defeated by a kind of exhaustion she didn’t recognize.
Fiyero began to watch her in silence, with that quiet attentiveness he only had when he was truly worried. Galinda, however, was the most insistent. The blonde was certain something was wrong when she saw Elphaba skip two meals in a row and still end up vomiting what little she had managed to eat.
“You don’t look very well, Elphie. Maybe you should see a doctor,” she said one night, while Elphaba was getting ready for bed.
“It’s probably just a bug,” came the too-quick reply. “It’ll pass.”
Galinda didn’t look convinced. No one was really buying her increasingly flimsy excuses. Elphaba had never been good at pretending, so when all attempts failed, loneliness became her new strategy.
She drifted away in the hallways. Sat far from everyone in class. Answered little. Avoided glances that lingered too long. Avoided anything that might turn into a real conversation. She knew she was hurting everyone with that behavior — Fiyero, Galinda, Nessarose — but she didn’t know any other way to survive what she was feeling.
Because as long as no one cornered her with the truth,
as long as no one said out loud what she still couldn’t say…
She could keep believing — even if just for one more day — that everything was still under control.
It didn’t last long.
Two weeks after buying the first test, Elphaba slowly lifted her shirt in front of the mirror. For a brief moment, she almost convinced herself nothing was different, that maybe it had all been a nightmare.
But then she shifted slightly. Adjusted her posture. Took a deeper breath…
And saw it.
It wasn’t an obvious belly, nothing that would catch anyone else’s attention. Still, for her, it was impossible to deny. There was a slight curve there, discreet, but far too real to ignore.
She placed a hand on her abdomen carefully, as if afraid the touch would definitively confirm what her eyes had already accepted.
“No…” she murmured. “Please, no.”
But her reflection didn’t obey her.
The realization ran down her spine like an icy shiver. This was no longer just a distant fear, nor a test hidden in the back of a drawer. There was something there. Something growing inside her, changing her inside and out, even if almost invisible to the world.
When she pulled her shirt back down, her fingers were trembling. In that moment, Elphaba understood she couldn’t keep pretending anymore. Not before that small curve became impossible to deny.
She needed to find a clinic.
…
The place was smaller than Elphaba had imagined. A discreet room with light-colored walls and a soft scent of herbs in the air. There were no stern faces, no cold corridors like in the nightmares she had built in her mind during sleepless nights. Even so, her legs trembled.
She kept her head down as she handed the form to the receptionist. Seeing her own name there, written in ordinary ink, caused a strange feeling — too simple to carry the weight of everything happening inside her.
The woman, around forty, her hair tied back neatly, read the information carefully before slowly lifting her eyes. There was no judgment in her gaze. Only care. She gestured toward a chair and sat in front of Elphaba with the calm of someone who had seen that same anguish many times before.
“The doctor will see you shortly,” she said gently.
Elphaba nodded, trying to control her breathing.
A few moments later, a door opened. The doctor was young, but there was something steady about her posture, a trained calm reflected in her eyes. She wore a light lab coat, her hair in a low bun, and spoke in a naturally warm tone.
“Elphaba Thropp?”
She stood up on unsteady legs and followed the doctor into the next room. The space was also small, but welcoming, lit by a warm light that made everything feel less harsh. The doctor sat across from her without hurry, as if that time truly belonged to them.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Dr. Aska,” she said with a subtle smile. “Before anything else, I want you to know that you don’t have to decide anything today. My role here is to explain your options, answer your questions, and help you think calmly, without fear.”
The word fear ran through Elphaba like a chill.
“I…” she tried to speak, but her throat closed.
“It’s okay to be nervous,” the woman added gently. “Here, you only need to be honest with yourself. One step at a time.”
The green girl nodded.
“Were you using any method to prevent pregnancy?” Dr. Aska asked carefully, without intrusion.
“I was…” she answered softly. “I’ve been on birth control for a few months. I… I don’t really understand how this happened.”
The doctor made a small gesture of understanding.
“It happens more often than people imagine. There’s what we call perfect use of birth control, which is when the pill is taken every day, at the same time, with no missed doses, following the instructions exactly. In that case, effectiveness can reach about ninety-nine percent.”
Elphaba frowned slightly, her fingers tightening in the fabric of her skirt.
“But I… I never forgot,” she murmured. “At least… I don’t think I did.”
“Sometimes it’s not even a true lapse. It can be a delay of a few hours, nausea after taking it, an interaction with another medication… small, everyday things we don’t even notice. That’s what we call typical use, how most people actually use it in real life. And in that case, protection drops a bit, to around ninety-three percent.”
She let out a low laugh, with no trace of real humor.
“So I became that statistic,” Elphaba murmured. “The number no one believes they’ll be.”
“You became a person in a difficult situation,” the doctor corrected her.
Silence spread between them for a few seconds, heavy, but strangely safe.
“If you decide to proceed with the interruption, there are safe methods for this stage of pregnancy,” the doctor continued calmly. “Everything is done with medical supervision, in a planned way. And afterward, there’s emotional support as well, if you want. You wouldn’t leave here alone.”
Dr. Aska patiently explained what each option involved: how the procedure worked, recovery time, alternatives if Elphaba chose to continue the pregnancy, and the availability of psychological support in any scenario.
“And regardless of your choice,” she added, “we can also talk afterward about more reliable contraceptive methods for the future, like an IUD or a hormonal implant. They last for years, have very high effectiveness, and don’t depend on daily routines. Many people feel more at ease with them.”
Elphaba kept her eyes fixed on the edge of the desk, as if it were the only stable point in that moment.
“The most important thing,” the doctor concluded gently, “is that the decision is yours. There’s no right or wrong choice here. There’s only the one you’ll be able to carry.”
The girl nodded, unsure how to respond.
“Let’s do an ultrasound now, all right?” Dr. Aska suggested. “Just to confirm how far along the pregnancy is.”
The next room was colder, too clean, too silent. The paper on the examination table made an uncomfortable sound when Elphaba lay down. Her fingers clenched over her chest, as if she were trying to hold herself together from the inside. When the gel touched her skin — far too cold — she shuddered.
The doctor adjusted the device, eyes focused on the screen. The silence that followed lasted too many seconds, filled with everything Elphaba didn’t want to think about.
“You’re approximately eleven weeks along,” she finally said carefully.
The words hit Elphaba like a blow.
Eleven.
More than two months. Nearly three.
“That means…?” the question came out weak, as if she already knew the answer.
Dr. Aska hesitated for only a moment, choosing her words.
“It means the pregnancy is already a bit advanced,” she paused respectfully. “But legally, you still have about a week to undergo the procedure, if that’s the path you decide to take.”
One week.
“I’ll continue the ultrasound for a few more minutes,” the doctor said gently, noticing the rigidity in the young woman’s body. “But you’re not required to look. Some people prefer not to, and that’s okay.”
Elphaba squeezed her eyes shut.
Don’t look.
Don’t make this worse.
She tried to cling to the darkness behind her eyelids, as if that could keep things in the same unstable place they were. But something inside her pulled — a silent, insistent impulse, impossible to ignore for long.
When she opened her eyes, she didn’t even realize she had done it.
And then Elphaba saw.
Pixel by pixel, a shape too small to be anything recognizable… and yet too big to be nothing. An uncertain, almost abstract outline, but undeniably there.
Then something moved.
The air vanished from Elphaba’s lungs.
“That is…?” she whispered, panicked.
“It’s a heartbeat,” the doctor replied softly.
The world spun.
She felt her body sink into the table, as if she were falling, as if the ground had given way beneath her. Tears rose without warning, without permission. Elphaba turned her face away too quickly, as if she could undo the image, erase what had just happened.
“I’m sorry,” the girl murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. “I… I shouldn’t have looked.”
The doctor turned off the machine carefully.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said with gentle firmness. “It’s okay to feel.”
Feel.
That was exactly what she had been trying to avoid since the first positive test.
When she sat up again, already dressed, Dr. Aska offered her a glass of water. Elphaba barely managed to hold it; her fingers trembled as if they were still stuck on that image on the screen.
“As I said,” the doctor repeated calmly, “you still have a week to think. And you are not a bad person for whatever choice you make.”
Elphaba nodded, but barely heard her. The words arrived muffled, distant, because now there was something lodged in her mind — an insistent image, impossible to erase. Something that was no longer just an abstract idea. Something with a heartbeat.
When she left the clinic, the sunlight stung her eyes. In theory, she should have felt relieved: there was still time, still a possibility of choice. But everything inside her felt shattered.
She didn’t know how to be a mother.
She hadn’t even graduated yet.
She was still learning how to live.
It was the logical choice. So why did she feel so destroyed?
That night, lying in bed, Elphaba stared at the ceiling for hours, unable to sleep. At some point, almost against her will, her hand slid to her belly.
“You would only make things harder,” she murmured.
But her voice faltered at the end of the sentence, betraying what she was desperately trying to convince herself of.
When exhaustion finally overtook her, Elphaba dreamed of a child. A boy with green skin and blue eyes. She woke with tears in her eyes, her heart aching, as if she were already losing someone she hadn’t yet found the courage to accept.
…
Galinda could no longer pretend that the unease was just in her head. Elphaba was still there, physically present — sitting in class, crossing the hallways, sharing the dorm room — but she always seemed half a step removed from everything, as if she were living behind an invisible pane of glass, unreachable.
“You’ve been acting really weird,” Galinda commented one afternoon, trying to sound casual as she flopped onto her bed. “And coming from you, that’s saying something.”
Elphaba merely shrugged, not taking her eyes off the book she was pretending to read.
“I’m just tired, Glin.”
But she didn’t look her in the eyes.
The blonde sighed, frustrated, and began searching for her lip gloss among scattered books, bottles, and loose papers on their shared desk. She was about to give up when something different caught her attention: a sheet of paper folded several times, shoved carelessly between two of Elphaba’s notebooks, as if it had been hidden in a hurry.
Galinda wouldn’t have looked. She swore she wouldn’t have.
But when she pulled the notebook free, the paper slipped out and fell open onto the floor.
And the title, in discreet but perfectly legible letters, leapt out at her:
WOMEN’S HEALTH CLINIC — PREGNANCY COUNSELING
Galinda stopped breathing for a few seconds.
She read it once.
Then again.
“Elphie…” she called, her voice too low. “What is this?”
Elphaba froze where she stood. The moment she saw the form in her friend’s hands, she knew there was no escaping anymore.
“Put that… back,” Elphaba whispered, her voice rough, almost pleading.
The blonde took a step closer.
“Elphaba… is this… is this yours?”
The silence that followed was heavy, dense, as if it filled the entire room. Elphaba’s eyes closed. Her fingers trembled. She didn’t need to say anything — Galinda already knew the answer.
“You…” she swallowed hard. “You’re…”
“Pregnant,” Elphaba finished, the word slicing through the air like a blade. “I’m pregnant.”
Galinda’s stomach dropped.
“Oh, Elphie… why didn’t you tell me?”
The green girl turned her face away, as if she were too ugly to be seen in that moment.
“Because it’s none of your business.”
The answer came out far colder than it truly was. Galinda recognized the defense mechanism immediately.
“Of course it is,” she replied gently. “You’re my best friend.”
Elphaba let out a humorless laugh.
“No… that’s not the point. What matters is that I… I need to deal with this. Quickly. Before it gets worse.”
“Worse?” Galinda repeated, frowning. “Having a baby is… worse?”
Elphaba didn’t answer. She just sank into the chair, hiding her face in her hands.
“Galinda… I can’t have this child.”
The blonde approached carefully, as if Elphaba were made of glass.
“Why?”
The answer came in a hoarse whisper, heavy with years of pain:
“Do you want the full list?” She took a deep breath. “To start with, because he could be green. And no one deserves to live my life… to go through the same things I went through.”
Galinda’s heart seemed to break.
Elphaba continued, one reason collapsing into the next, as if she needed to pour everything out before she drowned:
“Because I don’t know how to be a mother. I never even had one. Because Fiyero… Fiyero isn’t ready for something like this. Because his family will hate me. My father will hate me. Because my studies will go to hell. Because I already mess up enough without dragging another life into it”.
“And because…” her throat tightened. “Because I simply can’t afford to love this baby.”
Galinda knelt in front of her and took her trembling hands with firm, steady affection.
“Oh, Elphie… you already do.”
The green girl’s eyes widened, as if she’d been struck again.
“No. I… I don’t…”
“You do,” Galinda insisted softly. “You wouldn’t be this afraid if you didn’t. You wouldn’t be trying to protect this child from the entire world. Even from yourself.”
Elphaba went still, and Galinda squeezed her hands tighter.
“Elphaba… I’m not going to tell you what to do. Ever.”
She swallowed her own tears before continuing.
“If you really decide to have an abortion, I’ll go with you. I’ll stay by your side the whole time. I won’t let you go through this alone. I promise.”
Elphaba blinked, surprised — as if she couldn’t believe she deserved that much kindness.
“But,” the blonde continued, more firmly, “I need to ask you one thing first. The most important question of all.”
She took a deep breath.
“Do you really want this… or do you just think you don’t have another option?”
The question hit Elphaba head-on, as if it had pierced through every layer of fear, guilt, and despair she had been stacking inside herself.
For a few seconds, she didn’t answer. Elphaba just breathed unevenly, eyes shining, as if she were finally looking at something she’d been avoiding since the first positive test.
“I…” she started, but her voice failed. She tried again. “I don’t know, Glin.”
She swallowed hard.
“I’m scared of everything—the world, Fiyero, even myself.”
Elphaba took a deep breath, like someone preparing to jump from a great height.
“But even with all that fear…” her voice broke completely, “when I try to imagine my life without him… it hurts too much.”
She lifted her face slowly, eyes full of tears, vulnerable in a way that was almost unbearable.
“I think…” she hesitated, as if the word were still too big. “I think I want to keep him.”
Galinda smiled through her tears and pulled her into a tight embrace.
“Then we’ll figure it out,” she whispered into her ear. “Together.”
She held her a little tighter.
“And you’ll tell Fiyero. He deserves to know. And you…” her voice faltered. “You deserve to be loved through all of this.”
Elphaba’s shoulders tensed immediately.
“And… and what if he’s not ready for this?” her voice came out fast, defensive.
“Elphie… I know his past is complicated,” Galinda said gently, squeezing her hands. “But he’s changed since you came into his life. I’ve seen it. Everyone has.”
She stepped a little closer, keeping her tone calm.
“He might be scared, sure. Maybe confused, maybe a little lost. But abandoning you? I truly don’t believe he’s that person. Not with you.”
Elphaba was breathing hard.
“And what if you’re wrong?”
Galinda held her face with both hands.
“Then you’ll still have me,” her voice didn’t waver. “You won’t go through this alone. Neither you nor this baby. I would never abandon either of you. Never.”
A sob escaped — raw, unguarded — and she didn’t try to stop it.
Galinda simply pulled her back into the embrace, unhurried, wordless, holding that cry the way one holds something fragile and precious.
And there, between tears and silent promises, Elphaba understood that maybe, for the first time in her life, she wasn’t completely alone.
…
Fiyero noticed it gradually, in the details that only become clear once they pile up too much to be ignored.
In the way Elphaba started leaving class before it ended, always with some vague excuse.
In how she pushed food around on her plate, or simply left it untouched.
In the way she had begun to hold her own body — arms crossed, posture closed — as if she were constantly protecting herself from something no one else could see.
And most of all, in the silence. Elphaba had always been quiet, but now there was something different about it, a new weight, heavy with fear.
That afternoon, she was sitting on the low wall in the courtyard, a book open in her lap. The pages weren’t turning. Her eyes were there, too fixed, lost somewhere that definitely wasn’t the text.
Fiyero approached slowly and rested his arms on the stone beside her.
“You’re going to burn a hole through that book with your stare,” he commented, trying to keep things light.
Elphaba blinked, as if she’d been pulled back from very far away.
“I… I was just reading.”
“The same line for quite a while.”
She snapped the book shut too quickly.
“Fae…” he said softly. “You’re not okay.”
Elphaba looked away, fixing her gaze on some indistinct point in the courtyard.
“You’re different. You’re pale all the time, nauseous. You’ve been avoiding me and our friends.”
Her body stiffened instantly.
“It’s nothing.”
“Then why are you shaking?”
The air between them grew dense. Fiyero reached out toward her hand, stopping just a few inches away, as if asking permission to step into fragile territory.
“Elphaba…” his voice was steady but gentle. “Whatever it is… I’m not going to run.”
She let out a weak laugh.
“You should.”
“Never,” he replied without hesitation.
Elphaba squeezed her eyes shut, as if that answer had broken something she’d been holding together for far too long.
“I made an appointment,” she said suddenly.
The prince frowned.
“An appointment… for what?”
For a full second, the world seemed to hang suspended.
“To… terminate a pregnancy.”
Fiyero froze.
“What?”
The word came out as a broken whisper.
Elphaba opened her eyes, swimming with tears.
“I’m pregnant.”
Shock crossed his face without disguise. Fear. Surprise. A thousand thoughts moving too fast.
“Pregnant…” he repeated quietly.
She nodded, her fingers trembling as they twisted together in her lap.
“I found out a few weeks ago.”
Fiyero took a deep breath.
“And you… you went through all of this alone?”
Guilt washed over her face.
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
He inhaled slowly, trying to gather his thoughts.
“You…” his voice faltered. “You were going to do this without telling me?”
“I thought it was the best option.”
“Elphaba…” the prince said carefully. “That’s too big a decision for you to carry on your own.”
She brought a hand to her face, as if trying to hold back what was spilling over.
“I’m scared, Fiyero,” the words came out raw and rushed. “Scared you’ll reject me. Scared of your family. Scared this baby will suffer because of me. Scared of becoming my father. Scared of not being enough.”
She took a shaky breath, her eyes burning.
“I thought ending it was the only way to protect everyone. Including you.”
He stayed silent for a few seconds that stretched far too long. Then Fiyero crouched in front of her, bringing himself to her eye level.
“Fae, look at me.”
She hesitated… but obeyed.
His eyes were frightened, yes. But there was no anger. No rejection.
“I’m scared too,” he admitted. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”
Her heart clenched.
“So you—”
“But I’m not leaving you,” he interrupted gently but firmly. “Not you. Not this baby.”
Elphaba swallowed hard.
“I almost did this in secret…” she whispered. “And now I don’t even know if I can.”
He saw it.
In the way her voice broke.
In the way her hand instinctively moved to her belly.
“You don’t want to do this,” he said softly. Not an accusation. Just a fact.
“I…” she began, lost, the word falling apart before it could take shape.
“Then listen to me carefully, Elphaba,” he said, firm but kind. “No matter what you choose. If you decide you don’t want to go through with this… I’ll be here. No judgment. No abandonment.”
She looked up at him, surprised, her eyes wet.
“But…” he continued more quietly, “if there’s even the smallest part of you that wants to try… even if it’s wrapped in fear, doubt, and uncertainty… you won’t go through this alone. I promise.”
Elphaba took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as if she were squeezing through something narrow inside herself.
“I…” her voice came out fragile, almost a plea. “I want to keep it.”
Fiyero closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of that choice move through him — fear, responsibility, future — all tangled together. Then he nodded.
“Then we’ll keep it,” he said simply. “However we can. One day at a time. But together.”
Elphaba finally collapsed against his chest — broken, relieved, terrified — but no longer alone.
And there, in the middle of the Shiz courtyard, between fear and love, the future began to exist.