Everything Changes

Sophia’s Pov

Three months.

That was how long I had gone without seeing Noah Steele.

Some mornings I convinced myself the weekend at the mountain lodge had been nothing more than an unexpected detour in my life, a beautiful memory that had no place in my future.

 I buried myself in work, accepted new projects at the marketing agency, and tried to pretend that I had not left a piece of my heart behind in those snow-covered mountains.

It didn’t work.

No matter how busy I kept myself, memories of Noah always found a way back. Sometimes it was something as simple as the smell of freshly brewed coffee reminding me of the morning he had made breakfast for both of us. Other times, I would catch a hockey game on television and immediately change the channel before I could see him.

The hardest part wasn’t forgetting him. It was knowing I didn’t want to.

The morning we left the lodge, we had stood beside our cars while snowplows cleared the final stretch of road leading back to the city. Neither of us knew what to say. Our lives were too complicated. He was my brother’s greatest rival. I was Mason Blake’s little sister. No relationship could survive that.

“It was nice meeting the real you,” Noah had said quietly.

I smiled sadly. “You too.”

“I guess this is goodbye.”

“It probably has to be.”

Neither of us moved. Neither of us wanted to leave.

Finally, Noah stepped closer. “If things were different…”

“I know.”

He gently brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear before leaning down and kissing my forehead. It wasn’t passionate. It wasn’t rushed. It was soft. Almost heartbreaking.

“Take care of yourself, Sophia.”

“You too.”

Then we walked away. I never looked back, because I knew if I did, I might never leave.

For weeks afterward, I kept expecting him to call. He never did. Part of me couldn’t blame him. We had both agreed that walking away was the smartest decision. Sometimes doing the right thing hurt more than doing the wrong one.

Life eventually settled back into its normal rhythm. At least, that was what I kept telling myself.

Until one Monday morning.

My phone wouldn’t stop vibrating. Group chats exploded with notifications. News alerts flooded my screen. Even before I unlocked my phone, I knew something unusual had happened.

Emma practically burst into my office without knocking. “You need to see this.”

She tossed her tablet onto my desk. Across every sports website was the exact same headline.

BREAKING NEWS: NOAH STEELE TRADED TO THE HAWKS IN SHOCK BLOCKBUSTER DEAL.

My heart nearly stopped. The Hawks. Mason’s team.

“What?”

Emma looked just as stunned as I felt. “No one saw this coming.”

I stared at the article. According to the report, negotiations had been kept secret for weeks before both organizations finalized the trade overnight. Sports analysts were already calling it the biggest move of the season.

Television stations replayed clips of Noah and Mason’s rivalry while reporters speculated about how two captains who had hated each other for years would somehow share the same locker room.

“This is impossible,” I whispered.

“What?”

I quickly shook my head. “Nothing.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m just surprised.”

If Noah was joining Mason’s team, they would see each other every day. Every practice. Every game. Every interview. The thought alone made my stomach twist.

Before I could gather my thoughts, another wave of nausea hit me. I covered my mouth.

Emma immediately noticed. “Sophia?”

“I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay.”

“I probably skipped breakfast.”

“You’ve been saying that every morning for almost a week. You’ve also been pale. And yesterday you almost threw up after smelling my tuna sandwich.”

“To be fair, your tuna sandwich always smells terrible.”

She didn’t laugh. Instead, she tilted her head thoughtfully. “When was your last period?”

Every muscle in my body froze. “No.”

“Sophia.”

“No.”

Her expression slowly changed. “Oh.”

I looked away. “It can’t be.”

“When?”

I swallowed hard. “The mountain lodge.”

Silence filled my office. Emma sat down across from me. “Do you think…”

“I don’t know.”

Actually, I did know. I had simply been too afraid to admit it. The nausea. The exhaustion. The dizziness. The sudden sensitivity to smells. Every symptom I had ignored over the past several days suddenly made perfect sense.

Emma reached across the desk and gently squeezed my hand. “I think you should take the afternoon off.”

“I have meetings.”

“They can wait. You need answers.”

She was right.

An hour later, I sat alone in my car outside a pharmacy, staring through the windshield while my hands trembled against the steering wheel. This was ridiculous. I was overreacting. There were countless reasons my cycle could be late. Stress. Work. Travel. The emotional whirlwind of the past three months. It didn’t have to mean anything.

Five minutes later, I walked out carrying a small paper bag.

I couldn’t bring myself to take the test at work. Instead, I drove home and locked myself inside my apartment. The little white box sat on the bathroom counter for nearly twenty minutes before I finally opened it. My heart pounded so loudly that I could hear it in my ears.

“This is crazy,” I whispered.

I carefully followed the instructions before setting the test on the counter. Three minutes. That was all it took. Three minutes that somehow felt longer than the entire weekend I had spent trapped in that mountain lodge.

I paced across the bathroom. Checked my phone. Looked out the window. Anything to avoid staring at the test.

Finally, the timer on my phone beeped. I slowly turned around, and stopped breathing.

Two pink lines. Positive.

“No…” The word escaped my lips so quietly that I barely heard it myself.

I picked up the test with trembling hands. Maybe I had read it wrong. Maybe…

No. The result remained exactly the same.

I sank onto the edge of the bathtub. Tears immediately filled my eyes. I wasn’t crying because I regretted what happened with Noah. I wasn’t crying because I didn’t want this baby. I was crying because I already knew how impossible this situation had become.

Noah Steele was the father of my child. The man my brother hated more than anyone else.

How was I supposed to tell Mason? How was I supposed to tell Noah? Would he even believe me? Would he think I was trying to trap him?

I needed certainty.

An hour later, I found myself sitting inside my doctor’s office. Dr. Harper smiled warmly as she reviewed my test results. “Congratulations, Sophia. Your home test was correct. You’re pregnant.”

The words felt unreal.

“I’d like to run a few routine blood tests and schedule your first ultrasound, but based on your dates, you’re approximately six weeks along.”

Six weeks. The timing matched perfectly. There was no doubt anymore. Noah was the father.

After the appointment, I walked back to my apartment in a daze. The city moved around me as though nothing had changed. People laughed, cars rrushed past, children played in a nearby park. Meanwhile, my entire world had turned upside down.

When I reached home, I switched on the television simply to escape the silence. Every news channel carried the same story. Noah Steele had officially arrived at the Hawks’ training facility.

Dozens of reporters crowded outside as cameras followed him stepping out of a black SUV. Flashes exploded around him while journalists shouted questions from every direction.

“How does it feel joining Mason Blake’s team?”

“Have you spoken to Mason yet?”

Noah remained calm. “I’ll answer questions after meeting my teammates.”

He disappeared through the arena doors. A second later, the cameras shifted toward another entrance. Mason’s vehicle pulled into the parking lot. The reporters immediately rushed toward him.

Neither man had seen the other yet, but they would. Very soon.

I looked down at the pregnancy test still resting in my hand. Then I looked back at the television.

The father of my baby was walking into the same building as my overprotective brother.