Pleas

I used to love love-triangle stories.

The silent girl who harbored feelings for the male lead but never confessed. The one who acted cocky, annoying even, because deep inside, she feared losing the friendship she held dear. The one who longed for his attention yet never had the courage to demand it.

That girl? That was me.

I was bold in everything else, but when it came to love, my consciousness became an obstacle. What if I ruined everything? What if I lost the friendship we had built for years? What if we could never go back?

But in the end, it didn't matter.

I found myself in the role of the side character, watching as he prioritized someone else. I wasn’t surprised when he fell in love with another woman. But what hurt—what truly tore me apart—was how easily he discarded me. He never spoke to me, never explained, never even met me again. And all because she hated me.

I should’ve been angry at him, but I wasn’t. I was angry at myself.

I had placed him above everything, only to realize that I wasn’t even an afterthought to him.

And now, after all these years—after everything—he needed me?

For what?

To become their surrogate?

The absurdity of it all made me want to laugh, but instead, my voice came out eerily calm.

"Are you listening to yourself?" I asked, my tone measured but laced with disbelief. "You want me to give my egg, to nurture your child inside my body, for you? Is there some kind of shortage of surrogate mothers in the world?"

Sarah flinched, her eyes welling up as if I had physically struck her.

"I… I’m sorry… I know I couldn’t—!" Her words broke into sobs, hiccups shaking her frail shoulders like a child who had just been scolded.

It was pathetic.

"Violet!" My sister, Anne, scowled at me before wrapping a comforting arm around Sarah. "Can't you be a bit compassionate? She’s already grieving the fact that she can’t get pregnant! How could you?"

I felt my lips curl in distaste.

"I don’t understand what’s here to cry about!" My voice rose in irritation. "First of all, it’s my body—my choice. I am not obligated to accept this absurd proposal. Second, how could you possibly expect me to hand over my own child just to make someone else happy? I’m not that kind!"

"Violet!"

A deep voice cut through the tension, quiet yet carrying a weight that made my stomach twist.

Knox.

I turned to him, my heart pounding against my ribcage like it used to in high school. Except this time, there was no excitement. No butterflies. Just a cold, sinking feeling.

"You promised me you’d give me anything as my wedding gift," he said softly.

My breath caught in my throat.

"So?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes met mine, steady and unwavering. "As my gift… I want you to be the surrogate. I want us to be connected, Violet. Like we used to be. My girl—"my heart clenched painfully at those words "—doesn’t have the ability to conceive, but I want to fulfill her every wish."

And there it was.

My girl.

I had imagined those words countless times—dreamed of a reality where they were meant for me.

But they weren’t.

They never would be.

A bitter smile curled at the corner of my lips as I lowered my gaze.

I see. So that’s what I am to him now. A convenient choice.

"I can’t," I finally said, looking up to meet his gaze. "Even if it’s you, I can’t give my child away."

A tense silence stretched between us.

"Violet!" My mother’s voice broke through the quiet, her words carrying an edge of disapproval. "You are being cruel. I understand that Knox has been distant because of his wife, but that doesn’t mean you should abandon him when he needs you the most."

I laughed, but there was no humor in it.

"Abandon him?" I repeated, shaking my head in disbelief. "That’s rich. He abandoned me years ago. But now that he needs something from me, I’m suddenly expected to sacrifice everything?"

"Violet, please, try to understand," my mother sighed, her voice laced with forced patience. "This isn’t just about them. This is about family. About love. It’s a noble thing to do."

I could feel my fingernails digging into my palms. Noble?

"No," I said firmly, shaking my head. "What’s happening here is selfishness, plain and simple. Why should I wreck my body, my mental health, my entire life just to give them happiness? Why am I the only one expected to sacrifice?"

A heavy silence filled the room.

And then—

"Violet!"

Mrs. Silverfang—the woman who had once treated me like a daughter—stood up. She walked toward me, her expression soft, pleading.

She took my hands in hers, and for the first time since this conversation started, my resolve wavered.

"We aren’t denying that this is unfair to you," she admitted, her voice trembling. "What we’ve done so far has been cruel. But please… you are the only person I trust. I beg you, reconsider. Knox is my only son. He finally wants a child. If you agree, you can set your own conditions. Even if you don’t want Sarah anywhere near you, we will make sure of it. Please, Violet."

My chest tightened.

"Auntie…" My breath hitched, the weight of her plea pressing against me like an iron vice.

I knew what this was.

Emotional manipulation.

But that didn’t stop the part of me that still respected them, that still cared, from hurting.

"Violet."

I turned at the sound of Mr. Silverfang’s voice. He stood tall, composed, but his eyes reflected the same desperation as his wife’s.

"Anything," he said solemnly. "Ask for anything you want. Just… let us have the right to be grandparents."

I looked around the room, my gaze darting from face to face.

My sister, silent but expectant. My mother, disappointed but insistent. Sarah, still sniffling, clutching Knox’s arm like a lifeline.

And Knox—watching me. Not with love. Not even with genuine concern.

Just… waiting.

As if he expected me to give in.

To do what I had always done for him.

And for the first time in my life, I felt suffocated.

I was drowning in their expectations, their desperation.

"Aunt, Uncle." My voice cracked. "Please try to understand. I can’t…"

"Please!" Mrs. Silverfang’s arms wrapped around me in a tight hug, her body trembling. "Please, Violet." She cried, her tears soaking my black shirt.

I shut my eyes, my breath coming out in ragged gasps.

Torn.

Trapped.

And yet, for once—just this once—I didn’t want to be the girl who stayed silent. Who sacrificed everything for someone who wouldn’t do the same for her.

I had to choose myself. Even if no one else would.

As I opened my mouth to reject them again, a sudden gasp echoed through the air. Sarah, standing with tears streaming down her face, pressed the fruit knife against her wrist, " All I just want is a kid. Why can't I have it?"