Baby Just Say Yes

Trying to Tell Me How to Feel

Romeo, save me, they're tryna tell me how to feel
This love is difficult, but it's real
Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess
It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"
Oh, oh

Padmé sat on her bed, Sola beside her holding her hands. The doctor was outside talking to their parents. All of a sudden the door opened with such force that the sisters jumped. Their mother looked angrier than ever, while their father looked more conflicted.
"Padmé Naberrie, how could you let this happen?" She demanded.
"Mrs Naberrie, your daughter has not been told yet," the doctor said. He turned to her with a gentle smile.
"You're pregnant, Miss Naberrie,"
Padmé was glad that she was sitting down when he knees suddenly went weak. She covered her mouth and took in a shaken breath.
"What?"
Her father cleared his throat, placing his hand on the doctor's shoulder. "Thank you. May I ask that we have some privacy to discuss this as a family?" He asked nicely.
"Oh, and please, don't speak a word of this to anyone." Their mother pleaded. The doctor nodded before leaving.

"Now, the question is, what are we going to do?" Her mother questioned.
"What do you mean what am I going to do?" Padmé asked hesitantly.
"The way I see it, we have two options. One, you get rid of it and no one will ever need to know,"
"I'm not doing that," Padmé spat.
"Fine. Your other option is more complicated. You wed Clovis as soon as possible and tell his the child is his."
"That's crazy! I'm not marrying him!" Padmé jumped to her feet.
"Padmé, no one is going to marry you if you've had a child out of wedlock! This is your only chance, or you will be alone!"
"Then so be it! I don't want anyone else! This child was made from love and I will not lie about their creation!"

"Alright, maybe we should all take some time to think this through. Come with me, love." Their father took his wife's hand and pulled her from the room.
As soon as the door shut, Padmé collapsed back onto her bed and broke into sobs. Sola held her, but she couldn't help but wish that it was Anakin's arms around her.

——

It was the next morning before Padmé left her room. She hadn't spoken to her parents since last night, and eventually asked Sola to leave so she could wallow in her misery alone.

She walked down the stairs quietly, tugging on the sleeves of her blue robe nervously. If she had it her way, she would still be in bed, but the sudden craving for French toast propelled her from her room. She only hoped that she could get to the kitchen and back without anyone noticing.

Padmé was surprised to find her mother already in the kitchen, brewing a pot of tea. Her mother noticed her and smiled. "Good morning, dear. How are you feeling?"
Padmé tensed, confused about her mother's good mood.
"I'm alright," she replied hesitantly.
"Would you like something to eat?"
"I was just coming to make some French toast," She said.
"Sit down, honey. I'll make it," her mother smiled again, hurrying over to the fridge.

Padmé blinked, slowly lowering herself onto a stool at the counter. She watched her mother dart around the kitchen, trying to figure out what had caused her change in attitude.
A few moments later, she was placing a plate in front of her daughter. The French toast was topped with cinnamon, syrup and blueberries, and a hot cup of tea was placed beside it.
"Thank you, mother," Padmé smiled softly, having to stop herself from inhaling the whole thing right then. She picked up a fork and forced herself to eat at a normal pace.

After finishing her food, Padmé looked up to see her mother still in front of her, looking far too calm for her liking.
Mrs Naberrie leaned in and wiped the cinnamon off her daughter's cheek, chuckling.
"What am I going to do with you?" Her words were playful, but her tone had a hint of exasperation.
"Sorry." Padmé mumbled, wiping her face with a napkin.

Her mother sat down beside her, taking her hand.
"Padmé, I want you to know that I only want what's best for you,"
"I know, mother,"
"Good," Mrs Naberrie's face lit up when there was a knock at the door. "Clean your face and come to the dining room," she told her before hurrying out of the kitchen.

Padmé felt her heart sink, dreading whatever her mother had planned. She cleaned herself up with deliberate slowness before following her mother.

She turned the corner to the dining room and her blood ran cold. Her mother stood there, talking to the man who had come over the other day. It was none other than Rush Clovis, the man her mother had been trying to set her up with.

"Ah, Padmé!" He noticed her and walked over, placing a kiss on her hand. "You are positively glowing! I do hope you are feeling better than you were the last time we met,"
"I am. May I ask what you are doing here?" She asked, forcing herself to be polite.
"I came to discuss my intentions with you. I would be honoured if you would accept my offer of a relationship," he smiled.
Padmé took a step back.
"That is very kind, Clovis. But I can't," she told him.
"Nonsense, Padmé! I say you should give him a chance," her mother said with fierce eyes.
"I'm sorry,"
"Padmé, please. I know that we will be good together. You would be taken care of and get anything you wanted."
"I know what I want, Clovis. And it's not a fancy house or gifts," she said gently.
"I will let you think about my offer, and I hope you reconsider your decision," he said, his voice now having an edge to it.

"I'm pregnant." She told him. She took great joy in the way his face paled and how he stepped back.
"Padmé!" Her mother hissed in disappointment. Clovis turned to her, clearly shocked.
"This was not part of the deal Mrs. Naberrie, I will not raise another man's child!" He snapped. He gave Padmé a disgusted look before storming out.

"I hope you're happy with yourself!" Her mother exclaimed.
"I am. Very much so," Padmé couldn't help the smirk from growing on her face after successfully chasing off her suitor.
"Do you not realise how this will effect the family?" Mrs Naberrie demanded.
"I understand mother. But I am not some object to be won. Either you accept that or I am leaving." Padmé felt her eyes water.
Her mother said nothing, only looking at her with challenging eyes.
Padmé sighed, wiping her eyes with her sleeve before trudging up the stairs.
Her father was coming down and met her half way.
"What are you doing, honey?" He asked her.
"I was just leaving." She mumbled, hurrying past him.
"That guard is not coming back! You're going to be alone out there!" Her mother yelled up the stairs.

Padmé reached her room and pulled out a bag. She sat on the edge of her bed and placed a hand on her stomach.
"I won't be alone. We'll have each other," she whispered.