The exam room was cold and quiet—rows of desks, fluorescent lights, and the sound of pens tapping against paper. Jennifer took a seat near the back, away from most of the crowd, her desk barely giving her belly room. She pulled her hoodie tighter around her, trying to breathe through the discomfort.
Her body ached in strange places—her lower back, the sides of her chest, the deep pull in her thighs from carrying more weight than they were used to. But it wasn’t until halfway through the test that the real problem began.
It started as a tingling sensation—subtle at first, just beneath the surface of her skin. Then pressure. Warmth. A fullness in her breasts that swelled second by second until she shifted in her seat, trying to adjust. Something wet brushed her ribs.
Her heart dropped.
No, no, no—
She looked down, barely moving her head. Two dark spots had bloomed on the front of her T-shirt, just beneath the hoodie. Circular. Obvious. Getting darker.
She was lactating.
Her chest felt impossibly full, heavy with pressure, and now leaking through layers of fabric with every breath. She wrapped her arms over herself and hunched lower, trying to hide it, but the milk didn’t stop. The spots grew.
Panic crawled up her throat, but she couldn’t leave. If she walked out now, her grade was gone. And everyone would see. She squeezed her arms tighter, willing her body to stop betraying her.
Minutes dragged. Her concentration shattered, she scrawled answers with shaking hands, the ink smudging under her fingers. She didn’t even read the last few questions—she just filled in what she could and turned in her paper the second time was called.
She was the first one out the door.
Outside, she didn’t pause. She pulled her hoodie tighter and walked fast, head down, ignoring the looks—real or imagined—as she made her way to the campus café where Maya said she’d wait.
The moment she spotted her, sitting alone by the window, Jennifer felt her legs weaken with relief.
Maya looked up, and her eyes widened again. “Jen?”
Jennifer slid into the seat across from her, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s happening again. Worse.”
Maya looked at her, then at the faint stain on her chest—Jennifer couldn’t hide it anymore.
“You’re leaking?” Maya asked, stunned.
Jennifer nodded, blinking fast. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. But this isn’t just a phase. It’s not in my head.”
Maya reached across the table and grabbed her hand.
“Okay,” she said. “Then let’s stop pretending it’s nothing. We’re figuring this out. Together.”
And for the first time all day, Jennifer let herself exhale.