Chapter 2

Celeste's POV

It was supposed to be over.

A mistake, a one-night lapse in judgment I could shove into the back of my mind and pretend never happened. I didn’t talk about it. I didn’t think about it, at least, not out loud. I buried it under deadlines and shifts, under tuition fees and grocery lists.

And for a while, I convinced myself it worked.

Killian Vale was a ghost. An echo of a night I couldn’t afford to remember. He lived in high-rises and flew first class to boardrooms in Europe. I lived in a shoebox apartment and counted every dollar before buying rice. He belonged to boardroom wars and billion dollar mergers. I belonged to late-night bus rides and bulk instant noodles.

He was the sky.

I was dirt.

I had no place in his world, and he sure as hell didn’t belong in mine.

That night didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t. He didn’t even remember me. He probably didn’t even notice I was gone the next morning.

And I had done the smart thing.

I ran.

But now, as I gripped the edges of a convenience store sink, hunched over and panting, the sharp sting of reality punched the breath out of my lungs.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my trembling hand. My knees were weak, barely able to hold my weight, and my stomach had already emptied itself twice in the last half hour.

I stared at the mirror, wishing the reflection would lie to me.

But it didn’t.

I looked pale, sick, scared—and nothing like the version of myself I’d been trying to become.

The stall door was slightly ajar behind me. On the floor, discarded in a chaotic mess, were three pregnancy tests.

All positive.

All screaming the same terrifying truth at me.

No. No, no, no.

My fingers dug into the porcelain sink as if I could hold myself together just a second longer. The buzz of a flickering light above me felt like a thousand bees in my head, and I couldn’t stop shaking.

This wasn’t happening.

I messed up.

I messed up so bad.

I didn’t even know how it happened. Well, technically I did. But I took precautions. I had always been careful. I wasn’t reckless. I wasn’t like the girls who got caught in their fantasies and forgot to think about the aftermath.

But maybe I wasn’t as smart as I thought.

Because now I was…

Pregnant.

With his child.

A bitter laugh caught in my throat, half a sob. Of course it would be him. The one man I couldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. The one person in the world who would never—could never—be a part of my life.

And now his blood was inside me. His future pulsing quietly in my womb.

“God,” I whispered, sinking to the floor and curling into myself, arms around my knees. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

The tears came without permission. Quiet. Shaking. Ugly.

I had plans. Not big ones—nothing that sparkled—but I had them. Graduate in a year. Apply for scholarships. Get a stable job. Maybe work in publishing. Maybe start fresh.

But this?

This wasn’t in the plan.

I stared at the little plastic tests scattered on the floor like broken promises. Like proof of a moment I thought I could forget.

Killian Vale. That one night.

He probably didn’t even remember what I looked like.

I imagined him now, sitting in some glass tower downtown, sipping espresso made by a private chef, discussing numbers that had more zeroes than I’d see in a lifetime. Probably already engaged to someone of his level—polished, perfect, born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

And here I was.

Clutching a toilet in a convenience store bathroom. Pregnant. Alone. A walking disaster.

I let out a shaky breath and wiped my face with the sleeve of my jacket. I couldn’t cry anymore. Crying wouldn’t fix this.

I had to think.

What were my options? I had none. I could barely afford tuition this semester. How the hell was I supposed to raise a child?

Tell him? No. God, no. He would never understand. People like him didn’t deal with problems like this. And even if he did. What then? Would he take the baby from me? Would his family?

No. I couldn’t risk it.

This child was mine now. My burden. My consequence. My responsibility.

Even if it broke me.

Even if it meant giving up school.

Even if it meant never breathing a word to him.

I wiped my face one last time, stood slowly, and forced my reflection to meet my gaze in the mirror.

“You got yourself into this,” I whispered to my reflection. “You’ll get yourself out.”

I stepped out of the stall, scooped the tests off the floor, and threw them in the trash. My heart was still pounding, but I pushed it down.

Because I didn’t have time to fall apart anymore.