Chapter 3

It had been weeks… 4 weeks to be exact, yet that one mistake still clawed at me like a shadow I couldn’t outrun. No matter how hard I tried to shove it aside, it lingered. It tainted everything. I knew I had crossed a line, and the regret weighed on me more with each passing day. I wanted so badly to erase it from memory, to believe it hadn’t happened at all. But reality never loosened its grip.

The only small relief came from the fact that my boss seemed to have no recollection of it. Probably because he’d been too drunk to even stand, and I had slipped away before the morning sun touched his windows. He woke up to nothing, as if I had never been there. As if it was only me who had to live with the memory.

“Good afternoon, Selina. Same order?” the counter clerk asked, smiling with her usual cheer.

I managed a polite nod. My mind was elsewhere.

Ethan had told me to pick up his lunch today. Ingrid had canceled on him again, and I could tell the moment I walked into the office how much it soured his mood. That was the only reason he sent me out, I told myself. Not trust, not habit, not preference. Just frustration.

While the staff bustled behind the counter, I stood still, staring at the rows of food behind the glass. The smell of fried oil and spices swirled in the air, and something inside me twisted uncomfortably.

“Here’s your order. Enjoy your meal,” the clerk chirped.

I forced a small smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

Back in Ethan’s office, I set the paper bag on the low coffee table by his desk. I reached inside to take the food out, but the moment the scent rose up, it hit me like a slap. My stomach lurched violently. I clamped a hand over my mouth, forcing back the wave that threatened to spill over.

Ethan noticed instantly. His chair scraped faintly as he half-rose. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” His tone carried genuine concern, which only made my chest tighten more.

I hesitated, caught in the crossfire of my thoughts. Did he mean it? Or was I just another responsibility he couldn’t afford to neglect in the workplace?

My throat felt dry. I tapped my chest lightly and shook my head. “I’m fine, Mr. Blake.” The smile I managed was brittle, like glass ready to shatter. I busied myself unpacking to avoid his gaze.

But the smell grew stronger, invading every corner of the room, and my body betrayed me. Heat surged up my throat. I barely made it to his private bathroom before collapsing against the toilet, heaving. My body convulsed until there was nothing left but air.

When I finally pressed the flush, I slumped against the cold tiles, drained, trembling.

“What happened? Should I call an ambulance?” His voice was right there, low and urgent.

I shook my head weakly, unable to meet his eyes. “No, no. It’s nothing. I think it was just something I ate earlier. My stomach… it just reacted.” I gripped the sink, trying to pull myself up.

He reached out, his hand steadying my arm with unexpected gentleness. “Are you sure?”

I nodded, though the room still tilted faintly. “Yes.”

His eyes searched mine, but he didn’t push. “You should take the rest of the day off.”

I swallowed hard, forcing strength into my voice. “I still have work to do. I’ll go home as soon as I can.”

I rinsed my mouth, straightened my clothes, and adjusted my expression into something resembling composure. He stood silently, watching, but didn’t argue further. He knew my stubbornness, how I always clung to duty as if it could protect me.

By the time I finally got home, exhaustion hit me like a blow. I dropped onto the couch, my body sinking heavily into the cushions. The room was quiet, but my gaze drifted to the pharmacy bag sitting innocently on the side table.

Inside was the small box I had been avoiding, the truth I was terrified to face. My fingers trembled as I pulled out the last test, the fifth one I had forced myself to take. I didn’t need to look. I already knew.

But my eyes landed on the lines anyway. Two of them. Bright.

Positive.

The stick slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floor. Then the tears came, hot and unstoppable. I buried my face in my hands as sobs wracked my chest. I wasn’t ready for this. I didn’t even know what to do. And the cruelest part was that the man who should have known, who had a right to know... didn’t even remember that night.

Now, I was carrying his child.

A secret that could shatter everything if it ever came to light.

“God, please help me,” I whispered, the words dissolving in the empty room.

The next morning, I filed for two sick days. I couldn’t face him, not with the weight of the truth pressing so heavily against me. I told myself a little distance might help me breathe, might help me think. But even as I sat in silence, my thoughts were chaotic.

A knock on the door jolted me out of the fog.

“Wait,” I called, slipping on my slippers, heart pounding at the intrusion.

When I opened the door, expecting a delivery or a stranger, my breath caught. My world tilted.

There he was. Ethan Blake, my boss.

“W-What are you doing here?” My voice faltered.

“I came to see you,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His eyes scanned my face. “You look pale. Have you taken your meds?” His concern was real, so real that it stung.

I stepped aside, forcing myself to breathe. “Taken them, yes. Please, come in.”

He entered, his presence overwhelming my small apartment. I suddenly felt exposed. My little home looked too bare, too fragile compared to his world of wealth and glass towers.

“Sit down. Do you want juice or coffee?” My voice shook as I clung to politeness.

“Coffee,” he answered.

I poured instant coffee into a cup and placed it in front of him. “Sorry, it’s not freshly brewed. I don’t have a coffee maker yet.”

He smiled gently. “It’s fine. No worries.”

He sat with space between us, his posture composed. But his eyes didn’t leave me. “Why are you here?” I asked finally, my voice almost breaking. He had never come into my private life before.

He leaned back slightly, as if weighing his words. “This is the first time you’ve filed sick leave in all the years I’ve known you. I wanted to check on you. And… before I forget.” He pulled an envelope from his suit jacket.

“Ingrid asked me to deliver this, since you couldn’t come to the office. She wanted to bring it herself, but she had a shoot. She also sent fruits and meds.”

My chest constricted. I lowered my eyes quickly, fighting to keep steady. “Tell her thank you. I appreciate the thought.”

He shook his head softly. “We should be thanking you. You’ve done so much for us already. And… one reason I wanted to give this to you personally.”

I took the envelope, my hands trembling. I didn’t need to open it. I already knew. A wedding invitation.

I had rehearsed this moment in my mind a hundred times, convincing myself I would be strong enough, that I could accept reality. That he had never been mine to begin with.

But the truth hit harder than I imagined. Because now, I wasn’t just losing him. I was carrying his child.

“Selina?” His voice cut through the silence.

I blinked, forcing a smile through the ache that split my chest wide open. “I’m just happy for you. Congratulations again.”

The words tasted like ash on my tongue.

Ethan studied me quietly, as if he could sense something deeper beneath the surface. I busied myself with the envelope in my hands, pretending to admire the embossed details so he wouldn’t see my trembling fingers.

To distract myself, I asked lightly, “So… after the wedding, what are your plans? Back to work the next day?”

A faint chuckle escaped him. “Actually, no. I’ll be taking some time off.”

My brows lifted. “Time off? And what does that mean for me? Am I going to live in the office, buried under all the pending files?”

The joke slipped out before I could stop it. For a moment, to my surprise, he laughed. A genuine laugh that softened his features and made the room feel warmer.

I found myself staring, longer than I should have. My gaze lingered on his lips, then lower, tracing the curve of his jaw down to the lines of his hips. Heat rushed through me as memory struck. That night. That forbidden night when I kissed him, when his lips pressed against mine with a fire I couldn’t forget. Even now, the ghost of that touch lingered on my mouth, like a scar only I could feel.

He leaned back, his laughter fading into something quieter. “Ingrid wants to go to Switzerland for a month after the wedding,” he admitted.

Switzerland. A month. So far away. My throat tightened, and before I could stop myself, tears slipped free. They burned hot against my skin, betraying me.

I stood quickly, turning away before he could see too much. “Excuse me,” I whispered, trying to gather myself, but my body shook with the weight of everything I couldn’t say.

“Selina.” His voice was closer now. Then I felt him behind me, his presence steady, grounding. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

I shook my head fiercely, pressing a hand to my face. “It’s nothing. Don’t mind me.”

“Selina…” His tone was low, coaxing, filled with concern.

But I couldn’t let him in. Not when my secret pulsed inside me, fragile and dangerous. I forced a small, broken laugh, wiping my cheeks quickly. “Really. It’s nothing. I’m just… tired.”