The Parasite Problem

The Parasite Problem

Ira stared at the message on her phone, her face scrunched in confusion.

“What the...?”

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Ira:
Whom the parasite is out? What kind of parasite gets expelled through a period?!

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The dreaded three dots appeared at the bottom of the screen, signaling Zara’s response.

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Zara:
An embryo, duh.

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Ira froze. Her phone slipped from her hand and clattered onto the bed. Her stomach clenched painfully—but this time, it wasn’t from the cramps.

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Ira:
Zara, this is NOT funny. I’m not pregnant.

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Even as she hit send, doubt gnawed at her. Her last few months had been chaotic—a blur of skipped meals, sleepless nights, and, yes, irregular periods. But pregnancy? That was impossible. Wasn’t it?

The cramps flared again, sharp enough to make her gasp. Without thinking, she dialed Zara.

“Zara,” she hissed as soon as her friend answered. “Are you seriously suggesting I was pregnant?”

Zara didn’t miss a beat. “Uh, yeah. Missed periods, stomach issues, and now heavy bleeding with clots? Textbook chemical pregnancy or early miscarriage.”

Ira’s brain short-circuited. “But—but I took parasite meds! Could those have caused it?”

“Not likely,” Zara replied, annoyingly calm. “If it was a pregnancy, your body was already rejecting it. The meds might’ve sped things up, but they weren’t the cause. Honestly, you should be relieved. You’re single, hate kids, and call everything a parasite anyway. Win-win, right?”

“Zara, this is NOT a silver lining!” Ira shrieked, pacing her tiny apartment. “I might’ve just flushed a baby down the toilet!”

Zara sighed like she was dealing with a particularly slow child. “First of all, it wasn’t a baby. At best, it was a clump of cells smaller than a sesame seed. Second, weren’t you the one ranting about parasites last week? Well, congratulations! You got rid of it. Happy now?”

“ZARA!” Ira shouted, equal parts horrified and hysterical.

“Relax,” Zara said, her tone maddeningly casual. “Do you want me to come over? I’ll bring chocolate and painkillers.”

Before Ira could respond, Zara hung up.

---

By the time Zara arrived, Ira had spiraled through every emotion imaginable: confusion, guilt, grief, and finally, reluctant acceptance. She was sprawled on the couch, clutching a hot water bottle like a lifeline.

Zara breezed in like a tornado, carrying a bag of goodies. She dumped it onto the coffee table and plopped down beside Ira.

“Here,” she said, tossing her a heating pad. “How’s the exorcism going?”

Ira glared at her. “Don’t.”

“What?” Zara said, grinning. “You’re the one who called it a parasite. I’m just staying on brand.”

“Shut up,” Ira muttered, unwrapping a chocolate bar.

“I mean, seriously,” Zara continued, completely ignoring her. “You dodged two bullets today: no tapeworm and no baby. That’s a win-win.”

Ira wanted to be mad, but the absurdity of it all was too much. Despite herself, she started laughing. “You’re a terrible human being, you know that?”

“Yeah, but I’m *your* terrible human being,” Zara said, smirking. “Now, come on. What’s the real issue here? Are you upset because you *might* have been pregnant, or are you freaking out because you didn’t know?”

Ira hesitated, unwrapping another piece of chocolate. “I don’t know. Both, maybe? It’s just... scary. Like, what if I hadn’t noticed? What if it happened again?”

“Easy solution,” Zara said, reaching for a piece of chocolate herself. “Start keeping track of your cycle. There are apps for that, you know. And maybe go see a doctor to make sure everything’s okay down there.”

Ira groaned, pressing her hands to her face. “I hate adulting.”

“Everyone does,” Zara said cheerfully. “But look at it this way: your uterus just sent you a very clear message. ‘No unwanted tenants allowed.’”

“Zara.”

“What?” Zara said, throwing up her hands. “I’m just saying! Your body’s got boundaries. Respect.”

Despite herself, Ira started laughing again. It was ridiculous, but it was also oddly comforting. Zara was right—her life might be a mess, but at least it was her mess.

“Thanks,” she said, leaning back against the couch.

“For what?”

“For making me laugh,” Ira said. “Even when I kind of want to kill you.”

“That’s what best friends are for,” Zara said, tossing a throw pillow at her.

And for the first time all day, Ira felt like everything was going to be okay.