Two years ago.
Rain pounded the windows of their penthouse like the sky was grieving for them.
Sophia stood in front of the mirror, clutching the results of the company's quarterly loss report. Adrian walked in, soaked from his night shift, exhausted and late again.
"You missed the board meeting," she said, not turning around.
"I was saving a child's life."
"You've missed every meeting I asked you to attend," her voice trembled, "for months."
He tossed his keys on the table. "I'm a surgeon, Sophia. My patients don't wait for convenient timing."
"And I'm not your patient, so I don't matter?"
"That's not what I said—"
"But that's how it feels!" she cried, turning to face him. "You never show up when I need you. For once, can you choose me?"
The silence that followed was louder than any shout.
"I love you," he said softly, "but I'm drowning trying to keep up with your world."
She wiped her tears. "And I'm tired of begging you to be part of it."
That night, he left.
That night, she cried herself to sleep… and woke up the next morning to a pink line on a pregnancy test.
---
Present Day.
Sophia stared at the same mirror now—older, stronger, but still scarred.
Would Adrian still leave again?
Or had they both finally learned what love truly meant?