Susan swallowed hard, her hand reflexively brushing against her belly. “I’m pregnant,” she admitted, the words hanging heavy in the air between them. “That's what is going on,” “Yeah I can see that,” Leo interrupted, “I just needed to know… Whose baby is it?” Susan looked calmly at him, coolly, while emotions boiled beneath the surface like molten lava ready to erupt. “It’s none of your business.” His nostrils flared. “It is if you’re carrying my baby.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down. “Now why would you think that?” He hissed and ran his fingers through his hair, “Damn it, Suzy. Is it mine?” She needed to sit down. This was too much to process at once. She took deep breaths to calm herself. It didn’t work. All she could do was nod. The swimming feeling in her head was too much for anything else. Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken emotions. Was it crazy that he felt both relief and disappointment at the same time? How the hell was it p
Anger flared in Susan like a spark hitting dry kindling. She stood abruptly, her voice rising. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” she shot back, her frustration and pain bubbling to the surface. “Why the hell did you even bother coming here tonight if the idea of having a baby disgusts you so much? You could’ve just left me alone! You didn’t have to come all the way here to confirm if the baby is yours.” She paused, her chest heaving. “Why did you come, Leo? Why?” Leo’s jaw tightened, his hands flexing at his sides. “Because I had to, dammit,” he growled, his voice rising to match hers. He stepped closer, his eyes blazing with something raw and unfiltered. “You think I’ve been able to think straight since I saw you this afternoon? You think I could concentrate on the house you were showing us or that I could process anything Francesca was saying? You think I’d be able to just walk away and pretend this doesn’t exist?” He gestured between them. “Knowing you’re pregnant—knowing the
Leo stood there, tall and unyielding, his piercing eyes fixed on her with the intensity of a man who always got what he wanted. Yet tonight, there was something else in his gaze—a flicker of uncertainty that she couldn’t quite place. He was dressed casually, wearing grey sweatpants and a fitted black shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders. In his hand, he carried a plastic grocery bag, an odd sight considering the man’s usual polished appearance. Susan swallowed hard, her hand tightening on the edge of the door for support. She suddenly felt acutely aware of her damp hair, the loose robe tied haphazardly around her waist, and her bare feet against the cold floor. Vulnerability prickled at her skin, but she steeled herself. “Well,” she said, her voice cool, “that’s twice now. Good to know you’ve finally learned how to knock.” His lips twitched, not quite a smile. “Would you have preferred if I broke in?” “You didn’t bother asking me the last times you did it,” she shot back. “Wh
The warm aroma of garlic and olive oil greeted Susan as she stepped out of the bathroom, her robe swapped for a comfortable pair of black leggings and a loose sweater that hugged her small baby bump. She padded softly into the kitchen, drawn by the rhythmic clatter of utensils and the unmistakable sizzle of something hitting a hot pan. There he was, Leo Spencer—out of place yet oddly at ease in her modest kitchen. She couldn't quite believe that he was actually here. He had rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt, revealing his forearms, and tied a dish towel around his waist as a makeshift apron. His intense focus was fixed on the task at hand: slicing tomatoes with surprising precision. Susan crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “I honestly didn’t peg you as the cooking type,” she said, her voice light but laced with curiosity. Leo glanced up briefly, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I didn’t peg you as the type to doubt me,” he countered, sliding the tomatoes int
Susan finally broke the silence, but it was to change the topic. “It smells amazing,” she said, gesturing to the pot of boiling water where dried spaghetti was cooking. “Almost ready,” Leo replied. He drained the pasta, tossing it expertly into the pan with the sauce. The strands glistened as they absorbed the vibrant mixture of tomatoes, garlic, and basil. Leo plated the pasta, garnishing it with a sprinkle of grated Parmesan and a final touch of basil. He handed her a plate, their fingers brushing briefly. Susan hesitated before taking it. “This looks… surprisingly good.” “Surprisingly?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow. She smirked. “Don’t let it go to your head.” They sat at the small kitchen table, the meal between them. Susan took her first bite, her eyes widening slightly. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This is really good.” Leo gave her a rare, genuine smile. “Told you.” For a moment, it felt almost normal—two people sharing a meal, the tension between them temporarily replaced by
“It’s getting late,” Susan said abruptly, her voice cool and distant as she avoided his gaze, her fingers toying with the edge of her sweater. Leo’s brow furrowed. He leaned back, studying her with that piercing gaze that always seemed to see straight through her. He could tell immediately that something was wrong. “Okay,” he said slowly, his tone calm but probing. “What did I do this time?” Her heart clenched at his question. The fact that he didn’t already know was proof of how little he truly understood her—or cared to. Explaining it would only make her feel more foolish, and she didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. This was simply who he was, and nothing she could do or say would change him. “Nothing,” she replied curtly, keeping her tone flat. “Did I say you did anything?” Leo didn’t buy it for a second. “Suzy, come on. I know you. Something’s bothering you.” “Well, you’re wrong,” she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. “I’m fine.” He sighed deeply, dragging
“So what do you think?” Susan Jordan — more commonly known to her family and friends as Suzy — asked her mother as she whirled around the living room with a huge smile on her face. Her daughter was excited, Elizabeth Jordan could tell, so how was she going to say anything negative? Besides, even if she wanted to, she couldn't think of anything wrong with the place her daughter had chosen. The apartment was perfect. Not too expensive so she wouldn’t have issues renewing the rent. It wasn't a very large apartment, but it was spacious enough to meet her needs and it was only one hour away from the family house. She knew that Susan had always wanted to move into the more developed and exciting part of the town, and now the time had finally come. Susan was staring at her mother now, but her smile had turned into a frown. “What's wrong with it?” she asked, clearly confused by her mother's silence, “I thought you'd like it,” “I do.” Elizabeth replied quickly, moving towards her daughter
“H…H... Hi,” Susan stammered, To say that the man looked intimidating was an understatement. He looked threatening… Dangerous, and his presence screamed bad news. Susan was getting more and more worried about her brother. The man nodded in acknowledgment to her greeting, and simply waited for her to speak again. “I'm here to see my brother, Samuel. Is he here?” Susan asked, finally finding her tongue.There was silence for a few seconds, as the man simply stared her up and down. Just as Susan was beginning to think she wouldn't get an answer, another voice she didn't recognise came from within the house, “Let her in, Asher,” The man, who Susan now knew as Asher, stepped backwards so she could come in, although Susan wasn't sure she wanted to anymore. What if her brother was in trouble? What if he wasn't even in there? What if they'd done something bad to him? Was it really a good idea to go in? She would be helpless if she walked in and found herself trapped in the house with thes
“It’s getting late,” Susan said abruptly, her voice cool and distant as she avoided his gaze, her fingers toying with the edge of her sweater. Leo’s brow furrowed. He leaned back, studying her with that piercing gaze that always seemed to see straight through her. He could tell immediately that something was wrong. “Okay,” he said slowly, his tone calm but probing. “What did I do this time?” Her heart clenched at his question. The fact that he didn’t already know was proof of how little he truly understood her—or cared to. Explaining it would only make her feel more foolish, and she didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. This was simply who he was, and nothing she could do or say would change him. “Nothing,” she replied curtly, keeping her tone flat. “Did I say you did anything?” Leo didn’t buy it for a second. “Suzy, come on. I know you. Something’s bothering you.” “Well, you’re wrong,” she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. “I’m fine.” He sighed deeply, dragging
Susan finally broke the silence, but it was to change the topic. “It smells amazing,” she said, gesturing to the pot of boiling water where dried spaghetti was cooking. “Almost ready,” Leo replied. He drained the pasta, tossing it expertly into the pan with the sauce. The strands glistened as they absorbed the vibrant mixture of tomatoes, garlic, and basil. Leo plated the pasta, garnishing it with a sprinkle of grated Parmesan and a final touch of basil. He handed her a plate, their fingers brushing briefly. Susan hesitated before taking it. “This looks… surprisingly good.” “Surprisingly?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow. She smirked. “Don’t let it go to your head.” They sat at the small kitchen table, the meal between them. Susan took her first bite, her eyes widening slightly. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This is really good.” Leo gave her a rare, genuine smile. “Told you.” For a moment, it felt almost normal—two people sharing a meal, the tension between them temporarily replaced by
The warm aroma of garlic and olive oil greeted Susan as she stepped out of the bathroom, her robe swapped for a comfortable pair of black leggings and a loose sweater that hugged her small baby bump. She padded softly into the kitchen, drawn by the rhythmic clatter of utensils and the unmistakable sizzle of something hitting a hot pan. There he was, Leo Spencer—out of place yet oddly at ease in her modest kitchen. She couldn't quite believe that he was actually here. He had rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt, revealing his forearms, and tied a dish towel around his waist as a makeshift apron. His intense focus was fixed on the task at hand: slicing tomatoes with surprising precision. Susan crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “I honestly didn’t peg you as the cooking type,” she said, her voice light but laced with curiosity. Leo glanced up briefly, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I didn’t peg you as the type to doubt me,” he countered, sliding the tomatoes int
Leo stood there, tall and unyielding, his piercing eyes fixed on her with the intensity of a man who always got what he wanted. Yet tonight, there was something else in his gaze—a flicker of uncertainty that she couldn’t quite place. He was dressed casually, wearing grey sweatpants and a fitted black shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders. In his hand, he carried a plastic grocery bag, an odd sight considering the man’s usual polished appearance. Susan swallowed hard, her hand tightening on the edge of the door for support. She suddenly felt acutely aware of her damp hair, the loose robe tied haphazardly around her waist, and her bare feet against the cold floor. Vulnerability prickled at her skin, but she steeled herself. “Well,” she said, her voice cool, “that’s twice now. Good to know you’ve finally learned how to knock.” His lips twitched, not quite a smile. “Would you have preferred if I broke in?” “You didn’t bother asking me the last times you did it,” she shot back. “Wh
Anger flared in Susan like a spark hitting dry kindling. She stood abruptly, her voice rising. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” she shot back, her frustration and pain bubbling to the surface. “Why the hell did you even bother coming here tonight if the idea of having a baby disgusts you so much? You could’ve just left me alone! You didn’t have to come all the way here to confirm if the baby is yours.” She paused, her chest heaving. “Why did you come, Leo? Why?” Leo’s jaw tightened, his hands flexing at his sides. “Because I had to, dammit,” he growled, his voice rising to match hers. He stepped closer, his eyes blazing with something raw and unfiltered. “You think I’ve been able to think straight since I saw you this afternoon? You think I could concentrate on the house you were showing us or that I could process anything Francesca was saying? You think I’d be able to just walk away and pretend this doesn’t exist?” He gestured between them. “Knowing you’re pregnant—knowing the
Susan swallowed hard, her hand reflexively brushing against her belly. “I’m pregnant,” she admitted, the words hanging heavy in the air between them. “That's what is going on,” “Yeah I can see that,” Leo interrupted, “I just needed to know… Whose baby is it?” Susan looked calmly at him, coolly, while emotions boiled beneath the surface like molten lava ready to erupt. “It’s none of your business.” His nostrils flared. “It is if you’re carrying my baby.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down. “Now why would you think that?” He hissed and ran his fingers through his hair, “Damn it, Suzy. Is it mine?” She needed to sit down. This was too much to process at once. She took deep breaths to calm herself. It didn’t work. All she could do was nod. The swimming feeling in her head was too much for anything else. Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken emotions. Was it crazy that he felt both relief and disappointment at the same time? How the hell was it p
His expression was unreadable, but his dark eyes held a depth of emotion that made her throat tighten. She quickly looked away, focusing on Francesca. “There’s a family room just off the kitchen,” Susan continued, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest. “It has a fireplace and enough space for a large sectional or a play area for kids.” “Let’s see it,” Francesca said, already heading in that direction. Leo lingered behind, his steps slow and deliberate as he followed. He wasn’t interested in the house, not anymore—his thoughts were consumed by Susan. He watched her from a distance, taking in the way she moved, the way she avoided his eyes. The bump was small but unmistakable, and it stirred something in him he wasn’t ready to face. When they reached the family room, Francesca was already imagining where her furniture would go. “This is it,” she said decisively. “I love it.” “I thought you might,” Susan said, smiling. Francesca turned to Leo. “What do you think?” “
Leo didn’t answer, his jaw tight, his fists curling at his sides. His emotions were a tangled storm: disbelief, confusion, something that felt dangerously close to anger. His eyes flickered to the bump, then back to her face, searching for answers she wasn’t offering. Susan blinked rapidly, forcing herself to breathe. She had rehearsed this moment in her head countless times, imagined what she might say if they ever crossed paths again. But not like this. “Yes,” Susan replied finally, her voice trembling but steady enough. “We… know each other.” Francesca’s brow arched, sensing there was more to the story, but she didn’t press. “Well, let’s get started. It’s freezing out here.” Susan met Leo's gaze again, her expression unreadable, but her hand instinctively moved to rest protectively over her bump. The subtle gesture felt like a blow to Leo’s chest. She stepped aside to lead them toward the front door. But as she turned, Leo’s voice cut through the drizzle, low and sharp. “Sus
Dr. Patel sat down, flipping through Susan’s chart. “So, this is your first pregnancy?” Susan nodded. “Yes. I’m…new to all of this.” “That’s completely normal,” Dr. Patel reassured her. “We’ll take it one step at a time. Today we’ll start with some basic questions, do a quick exam, and, if you’re ready, we can do an ultrasound to confirm everything is progressing well.” Susan’s chest tightened at the mention of the ultrasound. “Okay,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. The doctor began with a series of questions: her last period, any medical history, allergies, or medications. Susan answered as best as she could, feeling a little less nervous as the conversation continued. “Great,” Dr. Patel said, closing the chart. “Let’s do a quick physical exam, and then we’ll move to the ultrasound. Are you okay with that?” Susan nodded, clutching the edges of the exam table. The physical exam was routine, but Susan’s mind raced the entire time. When Dr. Patel finally wheeled over t