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The next morning, Jasmine and Mia showed up around eleven like a chaotic hurricane of snacks and bad ideas.

Jasmine was carrying two grocery bags loaded with chips, sour gummies, and a suspicious container she proudly announced was "fudge, probably." Mia held up a DVD like it was a cursed artifact.

Attack of the Killer Tomatoes.

I stared at it in disbelief. "No. Absolutely not."

"Oh yes," Mia said, smirking. "We found it at the thrift store for a dollar. One. Dollar."

"Honestly, they should've paid us to take it," Jasmine added.

Lily, still wearing her soft arm brace and snuggled under a blanket on the couch, perked up instantly. "What's it about?"

Mia tossed the DVD onto the coffee table. "Well, it opens with a woman getting attacked by a tomato that climbs out of her garbage disposal."

I blinked. "You're lying."

"I'm not!" Jasmine said, already giggling. "Then the cops investigate, and one of them discovers that the red stuff all over her isn't blood—it's tomato juice."

Lily gasped dramatically. "That's amazing."

We got settled on the couch with snacks all around, the curtains drawn, the mood perfect for a movie that absolutely no one should take seriously.

The movie started—and it was worse than I expected.

And that was saying something.

Within twenty minutes, the tomatoes had attacked swimmers (a blatant parody of Jaws), a man had died from drinking tomato juice, and there was a campfire scene where a guy blew his cover by asking for ketchup.

"Did he seriously just out himself to a bunch of killer tomatoes with a hot dog?" Jasmine cried, her mouth full of gummy worms.

"Yes," I said, stunned. "Yes, he did."

Sam wandered in halfway through, caught a glimpse of the movie, and just quietly backed away—only to return five minutes later with popcorn and a look of confused intrigue.

We heckled the whole time.

When the President hired a team of specialists to fight the tomato menace—including a guy who parachutes everywhere and a woman whose entire skill is swimming, Mia nearly fell off the couch from laughing.

"Is this supposed to be a serious horror movie?" Lily asked, wide-eyed.

"It's a masterpiece of nonsense," Jasmine declared, wiping tears from her eyes.

By the time the humans were fighting the tomatoes in a stadium while blasting a song called "Puberty Love" to shrink them, we were crying with laughter.

"They could've just played bad teen pop music the whole time and saved the government millions," I snorted.

"The tomato with earmuffs is my favorite character," Mia said. "It had a plan."

The ending nearly sent us all over the edge. A carrot popped out of the dirt and ominously muttered, "All right, you guys. They're gone now."

Jasmine stood and applauded. "Cinema. Pure cinema."

"Better than Titanic," Mia added.

"Okay, now you're just being offensive," I said, still grinning.

When the credits rolled, we were all piled into one blanket, surrounded by half-eaten snacks, tissues from laughing so hard, and zero regrets.

The laughter slowly faded as the movie ended and the room grew quieter. Jasmine had migrated to the armchair, one leg hanging over the side, completely wrapped in a blanket burrito. Mia had claimed the floor and was halfway asleep on a pillow, her hand still in the chip bag.

Lily had dozed off next to me with her head against my shoulder again, snoring softly. Her arm brace rested neatly on a folded towel, and one of her legs twitched now and then like she was dreaming about racing a cheetah or something.

I carefully eased myself out from under her and stood up, stepping quietly into the kitchen to get some water. That's where Mom found me.

She didn't say anything at first—just came up beside me and placed her hand gently on my back.

"Sounds like you all had a good time," she said quietly.

"Yeah," I said, sipping my water. "It was... ridiculous. But good. Like, I forgot I was scared for a little while."

Mom smiled gently and leaned against the counter beside me. "Sometimes that's what laughter does. Helps you breathe again, even if just for a little bit."

I stared at the tile floor, thinking about everything that had happened—the crash, the news, the baby, and how weirdly comforting it had been to joke about tomatoes taking over the world.

"Lily asked if it's okay to be happy again," I said softly. "After everything."

"What did you tell her?" Mom asked.

"I told her it was exactly when it's okay."

Mom nodded slowly, a proud look flickering in her eyes. "That was a good answer."

We stood in silence for a few seconds. Then I looked up. "She also saw the news. She saw the footage of the crash. She didn't cry, but... she held my hand like she thought I'd disappear."

Mom's face softened. "She's lucky she has you. And you're lucky you have her."

I let out a shaky breath. "She's the bravest one out of all of us."

"She's got a good role model," Mom said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Now go get some rest. You've had a long day."

I gave her a quick hug before heading back to the living room.

The lights were dim now, and the air smelled faintly of popcorn and sugar.

I grabbed my pillow and flopped down next to Mia. "You still alive down there?"

She groaned dramatically. "Barely. I think I pulled a lung from laughing too hard."

Jasmine cracked an eye open from the armchair. "If I have dreams about tomatoes tonight, I'm blaming you."

"Fair," I whispered.

We settled in with soft giggles and heavy limbs, the kind of quiet that only happens when you've truly worn yourself out with joy.

I glanced around at my friends, the safe walls of home, the warm glow from the hallway nightlight, and the fuzzy, grainy printout of my baby tucked under my pillow like a secret.

That night, despite the laughter and the comfort of my friends sleeping nearby, I had a nightmare.

A stupid, terrifying, tomato-infested nightmare.

It started at the zoo—normal enough. I was walking past the giraffes with Lily and Sam, munching on a hot dog slathered in sauerkraut and mustard. The sky was bright, the birds were chirping, everything was fine.

Until I heard it.

A low, wet squelching sound.

Plop. Plop. Squishhh.

I turned around—and there it was.

A GIANT tomato.

Not a cute cartoon one, no. This one had evil eyes, slime dripping from its skin, and huge rolling movements like it was made of angry jelly.

It growled.

"RUN!" I screamed, dragging Lily and Sam with me as more tomatoes rolled in from the trees, from behind concession stands, from the sky.

It was an invasion.

They started bouncing through the zoo, knocking over flamingo signs and terrorizing the crowned cranes. I ducked behind a Dall's sheep statue, panting, when I remembered—

The song.

Puberty Love.

In the movie, it worked. It made them shrink.

I fumbled for my phone in the dream, found the song, and hit play.

The screechy, off-key lyrics began.

♪ "Puberty loooove..."♪

The tomato paused. Tilted.

And then... grew bigger.

"NO! That's not supposed to happen!" I shrieked.

It charged.

I tried again.

♪"Puberty lo—"♪

The phone exploded in a puff of tomato juice.

I SCREAMED.

Suddenly I was surrounded—dozens of tomatoes bouncing around me, chanting in deep voices, "KETCHUP... KETCHUP... KETCHUP..."

I tried to run, but my feet were stuck in a puddle of marinara.

I looked up just in time to see a tomato the size of a car rolling toward me, teeth bared—

And then—

I woke up with a gasp.

My heart was racing. I was drenched in sweat. Jasmine was still snoring softly in the chair, and Mia had somehow rolled under the coffee table in her sleep.

I looked around.

No tomatoes.

No marinara.

Just a dark, quiet living room.

I exhaled slowly and whispered to myself:

"I'm never watching that movie again."

The next morning, the smell of toast and sizzling eggs drifted through the house. Mom was already up in the kitchen, humming softly to herself while flipping pancakes. The sun spilled through the windows, painting golden patches on the floor. It should've been peaceful.

Should've.

I shuffled in slowly, bleary-eyed and wrapped in a blanket like a survivor of war. Jasmine was yawning as she trailed behind me, and Mia looked like she hadn't slept at all. Probably because she hadn't—she was still wearing the same hoodie and had pillow creases across her face.

Lily was already at the table, bright-eyed and chatty, her arm brace propped up on a rolled towel. She looked at me and grinned innocently.

"Do you want ketchup with your eggs, Emily?" she asked sweetly. "Like you usually do when you're having a craving?"

I froze.

Everyone else froze.

Images from the nightmare flashed through my mind—giant tomatoes, chanting ketchup demons, the terrifying squelch of a tomato on a mission...

And without thinking, I screamed.

"NO! NO KETCHUP! NEVER AGAIN!"

The room went dead silent.

Lily blinked. "Um... okay."

Mia burst out laughing, nearly choking on a sip of juice. Jasmine had to grab the counter to steady herself.

Mom turned around, spatula in hand. "I take it the movie didn't quite wear off overnight?"

I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. "It chased me through the zoo. It ignored Puberty Love. It had TEETH, Mom."

"Sounds like a very healthy cinematic experience," she said, trying not to laugh as she slid a pancake onto my plate.

Lily leaned over and whispered, "Was it a talking tomato?"

"It sang to me, Lily," I muttered, still recovering.

"Okay, but did it want a hug or like... to eat you?"

"I DON'T KNOW. BOTH."

Everyone burst out laughing again.

It was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous.

But after everything we'd been through lately?

Laughing about evil tomatoes was exactly what we needed.

As the laughter died down, I finally sat down with my plate—scrambled eggs, pancakes, and a little fruit on the side. Mom had even made veggie sausage, probably trying to sneak some protein into my unpredictable pregnant stomach.

I dug in, still wrapped in my blanket like some sort of exhausted breakfast gremlin. The dream was already starting to fade into the background, replaced by the comfort of warm food and the soft clatter of forks on plates.

Then, completely on autopilot, I reached for the ketchup.

Squeezed.

And smothered my eggs.

I was halfway through chewing my first bite before I even realized it.

Jasmine was the first to notice. She pointed at my plate, eyes wide. "Uhh... Emily?"

I froze mid-chew.

Then looked down.

Red.

Bright red.

On my eggs.

Everyone turned.

Lily gasped like she was witnessing a crime. "EMILY!"

Mia dropped her fork. "YOU'RE EATING THE NIGHTMARE."

I spit the bite back onto my plate and pushed it away, shrieking, "NOOOO! IT'S INSIDE ME!"

The entire table howled with laughter.

Mom had to lean against the counter she was laughing so hard. "Well, I guess the cravings win again."

I groaned and buried my face in my arms. "I can't escape. They've won. The tomatoes have won."

Sam wandered into the room, totally confused. "Why is she yelling about tomatoes?"

Jasmine, still giggling, waved him off. "Long story. Involving horror, betrayal... and condiments."

I peeked up at my plate, pouting. "But it still tastes good."

Everyone burst out laughing again, and even I had to grin through the shame.

I stared down at my plate like it had betrayed me.

Because it had.

I sighed dramatically, then picked up my fork. "Well... I already started."

"You're seriously going to finish it?" Mia asked, half-horrified, half-impressed.

I nodded with a deep, tragic expression. "If I'm going down, I'm going down with flavor."

And with that, I shoveled another bite into my mouth.

Jasmine cringed. "You're braver than all of us."

Lily leaned in, wide-eyed. "Is it good though?"

I chewed slowly, letting the ketchup-and-egg chaos settle on my taste buds. Then I shrugged.

"...Kind of?"

Lily looked scandalized. "You're not the same person anymore."

"I think the baby is running the show now," I said with a weak laugh.

"That baby's going to come out demanding french fries and chocolate milk," Mia said, grinning.

"Oh, that sounds good," I said without hesitation, eyes lighting up. "Now I want that."

Jasmine laughed. "You're hopeless."

Mom walked by with the orange juice and gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Just be glad your cravings didn't involve barbecue chips dipped in vanilla pudding. That was me when I was pregnant with Lily."

Lily's face twisted in horror. "MOM! That's disgusting!"

Mom grinned. "Hey, I was unstoppable. Your dad still won't eat vanilla pudding to this day."

"No one should after hearing that," Sam said, walking in with bedhead and a suspicious look on his face. "I came in here hoping for a normal breakfast, not a food crime scene."

"Too late," Jasmine said. "We've crossed into chaos."

Sam sat down and reached for toast, eyeing my plate warily. "If you ask me, we should all go back to cereal."

"I would," I said, mouth full, "but the baby says this is fine dining."

We all cracked up again.

It wasn't a fancy breakfast. It wasn't even a normal one.

But it was warm. It was happy.