[Sophie’s POV]

The bed feels smaller with all three of them in the room.

Cleo takes the chair by the window, her arms crossed, her presence a silent reminder that she’s watching. Ready to intervene if necessary. Ready to drag them both out by their ears if they say something stupid.

Adrian and Cassian stand at the foot of my bed, neither of them sitting, like they’re not sure they’ve earned that right yet. The morning light catches the exhaustion on their faces—the shadows under their eyes, the tension in their shoulders.

They look as wrecked as I feel.

“I don’t know where to start,” I admit, pulling the thin hospital blanket tighter around myself. The gesture is childish, protective, but I need something to hold onto. “I had a whole speech planned. Letters, actually. I wrote you both letters.”

Adrian flinches. “We found them.”

“Did you read them?”

“No.” His voice is quiet. “Cleo said—she said you should tell us yourself. When you were ready.”

I look at Cleo, surprised. She shrugs slightly. Some things need to come from you.

I take a breath, trying to organize the chaos in my head into something resembling coherent sentences.

“I found out six weeks ago,” I say. “At a clinic downtown. I went by myself because I was scared, and I thought—I thought if it turned out to be nothing, I could just forget about it. Go back to normal.”

“But it wasn’t nothing,” Cassian says softly.

“No.” I press my hand to my stomach, feeling the slight curve that’s become so familiar. “It was very much something. And the first thing I thought was, ‘How am I going to tell them?'”

Adrian’s jaw tightens. “You could have just said it. We would have listened.”

“Would you?” I look at him directly, not accusing, just asking. “Think about it, Adrian. Really think. If I had come to you six weeks ago and said, ‘I’m pregnant and I don’t know if it’s yours or Cassian’s,’ what would you have done?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then closes it. His expression shifts as he actually considers the question instead of just reacting.

“I would have…” He trails off. “I don’t know. I want to say I would have been supportive. But honestly? I probably would have spiraled. Demanded answers. Tried to fix it somehow.”

“And you?” I turn to Cassian.

He’s quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is measured. “I would have started researching. Paternity tests, timelines, probabilities. I would have tried to solve it like an equation.”

“Both of which,” I say carefully, “would have been about your feelings. Your needs. Your reactions.”

The words land gently, but they still sting. I can see it in the way they both shift, the way their eyes drop.

“I’m not blaming you,” I continue. “I’m trying to explain why I didn’t tell you. Because every time I imagined that conversation, it became about managing your responses. Protecting you from the uncertainty. Making sure neither of you felt betrayed or hurt or less important.”

“That wasn’t your job,” Adrian says.

“I know that now. But six weeks ago? Six weeks ago, it felt like the only job I was qualified for.”

Cleo shifts in her chair, but doesn’t speak. She’s letting me have this moment, letting me tell my own story.

“So I decided to handle it alone,” I continue. “I told myself I’d figure it out. Get a paternity test quietly. Know the answer before I had to say anything. But then—” My voice catches, and I have to stop. Take a breath. Try again.

“But then I realized that knowing wouldn’t make it easier. Because whoever the biological father is, the other one is still here. Still part of this. Still someone I love who might get hurt.”

“Sophie,” Cassian starts.

“Let me finish.” I need to get this out. All of it. “I started imagining every possible outcome. If it’s Adrian’s, Cassian might feel excluded. Unnecessary. Like he’s always been the backup plan. If it’s Cassian’s, Adrian might feel—”

“Replaceable,” Adrian supplies quietly.

“Yes.” The word burns. “And I couldn’t—I couldn’t be the person who made either of you feel that way. I couldn’t watch our relationship crack down the middle because of something I couldn’t control.”

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