[Cassian’s POV]

The silence after the doctor leaves is unbearable.

Adrian hasn’t moved. He’s standing exactly where he was when the word “pregnant” landed between us, his body rigid, his face drained of color. I’m still braced against the wall, my palm flat against the cold surface, using it to anchor myself to something real.

Six weeks pregnant. Running away. Didn’t know who the father was.

The information circles through my mind like debris caught in a whirlpool, refusing to settle into any configuration that makes sense.

Sophie lies on the bed between us, pale against the white sheets, her eyes closed now. The IV drips steadily into her arm. The monitor tracks her heartbeat—faster than it should be, even in sleep. Or maybe she’s not sleeping. Maybe she’s just hiding behind her eyelids, waiting for us to leave so she can breathe again.

The thought makes my chest ache in a way I don’t have words for.

“She knew,” Adrian says finally, his voice hollow. “This whole time, she knew, and she didn’t tell us.”

“She was scared.” The words come out rougher than I intend. “She thought—”

“I know what she thought.” He cuts me off, but there’s no anger in it. Just exhaustion. Just devastation. “Cleo made that very clear.”

I push off the wall, my legs unsteady beneath me. The fluorescent lights feel too bright, too harsh, exposing every crack in the facade I’ve spent years building. I’m supposed to be the calm one. The logical one. The one who has a plan for every contingency.

I don’t have a plan for this.

“We should sit,” I say, because it’s the only thing I can think of. “She’ll wake up eventually. We should be here when she does.”

Adrian laughs, but it’s a broken sound. “And say what? ‘Hey, Sophie, we heard you were planning to disappear with our maybe-baby. How’s your day going?'”

“Adrian.”

“I know.” He drags a hand down his face, and I see his fingers trembling. “I know. I’m just—” He stops, swallows hard. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Neither do I. But I don’t say that out loud.

Instead, I move to the chair on the left side of her bed, lowering myself into it carefully, like too much motion might shatter something fragile in the room. Adrian takes the other side after a moment, his movements jerky and uncoordinated in a way I’ve never seen from him.

We sit there in silence, watching her breathe.

The minutes stretch like taffy, slow and sticky. I count her heartbeats on the monitor. I watch the way her lashes flutter against her cheeks when she dreams. I notice the slight curve of her stomach beneath the hospital gown—so subtle I would have missed it if I hadn’t been looking. If I hadn’t known.

Six weeks. That’s how long she’s been carrying this secret. Six weeks of nausea and fear and isolation, all while we went about our lives, oblivious.

The guilt settles into my bones like lead.

“I should have noticed,” I say quietly. “The way she was pulling away. The excuses. The way she stopped eating in front of us.”

Adrian’s jaw tightens. “We both should have.”

“She didn’t want us to notice.” I’m not defending us. I’m just stating a fact. “She was protecting us. Or trying to.”

“By destroying herself.”

The words hang in the air, sharp and true.

Sophie stirs on the bed, a small sound escaping her throat—distress, even in unconsciousness. Without thinking, I reach out and take her hand, my fingers closing gently around hers.

Her grip tightens almost immediately, like she’s been waiting for something to hold onto.

“Hey,” I murmur, keeping my voice low. “We’re here. You’re safe.”

Her eyes flutter open, unfocused at first, then slowly sharpening as consciousness returns. She looks at me, then past me to Adrian, and I watch the fear flood her features—the realization that she can’t hide anymore.

“Cassian,” she whispers, and my name sounds like an apology.

“I’m here,” I say simply. “We both are.”

Adrian leans forward, his elbows on his knees, his whole body oriented toward her like she’s a magnet he can’t resist. “How do you feel?”

She laughs weakly, the sound catching in her throat. “Like I got hit by a truck that was carrying all my worst decisions.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify