Is it possible to be with the one you love without even trying?
Some people get whoever they want just because they're handsome or beautiful.
And the ones who are average or below average… they just watch from a distance and try to comfort themselves:
"My heart is pure,"
"When I love, I love harder,"
"I'm the better one."
But deep down, they know they're not on the same level. And they never will be unless they start taking care of themselves.
So… is appearance really that important in love?
Can someone end up with the one they love without trying, without being attractive—just by being themselves?
Brian knew these things only happened in movies.
Would he have loved Michelle if she wasn't beautiful?
Would he have never been able to forget Sophie if she wasn't so pretty?
He knew deep down that love alone wasn't enough.
People said "heart" and "trust" mattered more, but come on—who would want to be with someone they didn't find attractive?
Brian couldn't stop overthinking it.
Maybe it was because he hadn't fallen in love in years.
He'd always been confident with girls, never had trouble approaching them.
Maybe not every single one, but most of the girls he wanted—he got.
But now, he felt completely different about the one he loved—his best friend.
They used to talk for hours, laugh, chill with zero awkwardness. Now, he couldn't even string two words together.
Every time he looked at her, he felt ashamed. Guilty.
And a deep, deep love.
He started to feel ugly.
So he went and got a haircut, bought a bunch of new clothes—
He wanted to look good for her. For his girlfriend. His pregnant girlfriend.
The journey had already begun.
The friendship was over.
He had gotten his best friend pregnant.
And he was thinking about marrying her.
He hadn't been able to ask for days, but now… he felt like he had to.
"Is the baby mine?"
His eyes stared at Michelle with pure fear. He was terrified of the answer.
What if the baby wasn't his? What if it was Theo's?
"Yes. It's yours. I swear it's yours," Michelle answered.
Even though Brian felt relieved, he still didn't fully believe her.
He knew Michelle had spent those 28 hours he was tied to a chair… with Theo.
And he just couldn't believe that nothing had happened between them.
Theo, after finding out that his high school love was pregnant and the baby wasn't his, had left town for a while—on a "vacation," and that gave Brian some peace.
Theo being gone meant Michelle wouldn't see him, and that calmed Brian down.
"Do you think it's too early to live together?" Brian asked.
"Dude, are you fucking joking? We're gonna have a baby," Michelle replied with frustration.
My love… even if I feel deep down that you're scared and don't believe me… what can I do other than be by your side?
"So if you weren't pregnant, you wouldn't be here?" Brian asked.
"Oh, come on. Did I say that?"
"Well, what else could it possibly mean?"
"Do you really think this is the time to fight, Brian?"
"We're not fighting. We're clarifying things between us."
Michelle suddenly stood up and snapped:
"Is that so? For fuck's sake, is that so? What reaction do you expect from me?! Should I hate the guy who fell in love with me after fucking me dozens of times as my best friend? Or should I hate him even more because I got pregnant from him?"
"There ain't no such thing, Brian. I care about you so fucking much.
Maybe I'm not as in love with you as you are with me,
but I promise you—I feel something for you too.
Do you think me being pregnant is the only reason I'm here?"
Brian replied, "I'm sorry. I crossed the line."
Michelle's eyes widened like she was talking to an idiot.
And she wasn't lying—she did have feelings for Brian.
But how strong were they… really?
When Natasha Dyer opened the door, the police officers who entered the room immediately grew serious upon seeing Mathew sitting on the couch—his eye blackened and his nose clearly broken.
At first, they had thought it was just a typical school fight, but the scene changed their minds quickly.
The reason they hadn't called the cops earlier was because they didn't want anyone finding out what had happened at the party.
Mathew already had a shady record, and if he filed a complaint about Brian, Brian would press charges back.
And for someone who was on probation for dealing drugs, theft, fighting, and assault, going to the police was not a wise move.
But when his parents returned from their trip and saw him in that condition, they panicked and immediately called the police.
"Find him, officer! Find the man who beat my son nearly to death!" cried Mathew's mother.
"We'll do our best, ma'am," the officer replied, then turned his gaze to Natasha.
When she looked away, he wanted to question her.
"You must be the sister, correct?"
Natasha answered in a trembling voice, "Yes, sir."
"Where were you when this happened?"
"I was at home, reading. I had my headphones on. I didn't notice anything.
When I came downstairs to get some water, that's when I saw it."
"Why didn't you report it earlier?" the officer asked.
Natasha froze, and Mathew jumped in to cover.
"It was just a temporary fight, sir. We've done stupid shit like that too. We didn't want to make a big deal out of it."
"A fight that ends with broken bones is always a big deal," said the officer sternly.
His voice was serious, and it felt like these two teens were hiding something.
"Oh my son, my beautiful boy… look what they did to you.
If you had called us earlier, maybe we could've caught him by now."
"Mom, I didn't want to scare you. I thought it'd heal before you got back.
And if you didn't see it, you wouldn't get worried.
I didn't know you'd come home early from your trip."
It was obvious why he kept it secret: to keep himself out of trouble.
And he had made sure his sister did the same.
Mathew shelved the whole incident, planning to keep it buried for good.
Brian was going through days of mental chaos, unsure what to think anymore.
Was the masked man really Theo?
In just nine months, he would be a father—was he ready for that?
He talked to himself a lot, trying to prepare… but every time he played out a scenario in his head, it ended badly.
Even though the time he spent with Michelle after work made him happy,
he still didn't feel ready to be a dad.
Four months had passed since the pregnancy began.
The couple had finally found peace with it, and their long-lost bond had returned.
They were in love, and they were happy.
At least… that's what it looked like.
Michelle's belly had grown significantly, and for the first time, Brian saw his girlfriend with a baby bump—and couldn't stop laughing.
"Maybe try eating less, might help with the belly," he joked.
Chaos broke out in the house immediately.
They started chasing each other around,
Brian laughing like crazy while Michelle yelled,
"You dumb fuckin' ox!"—which only made Brian laugh even harder.
Despite everything they had been through, they truly looked happy.
On a Sunday morning, Brian had breakfast with his girlfriend.
Then he went to the market to buy vodka—he wanted to drink in honor of the day.
Michelle couldn't join him, but getting drunk and watching a movie with her was one of his favorite things.
Because when he got drunk, he would start acting crazy, and Michelle found it absolutely hilarious.
He left the market, walking back home with his headphones in, music blasting, feeling genuinely happy.
He no longer felt that "I'm not ready to be a dad" fear from four months ago.
He truly felt loved, and he was moving forward.
"What happens, happens. I'm going to be a good husband and a good father," he said to himself.
He even started dreaming about a wedding.
Usually that was the woman's job, right? But Brian was so in love,
he wanted to impress her, to make her the happiest woman alive.
If he had billions, he'd spend it all on that wedding.
Because he knew… for a girl, her wedding was her first real dream, ever since she played "house" as a child.
Brian was peacefully walking home when he froze in place—
There was a car parked in front of the house.
"Fuck."
Yes, it had happened.
The thing he was most afraid of.
The masked man was back.
Brian was almost certain it wasn't Theo.
Did Theo even have the balls to do something like this? Probably not.
So… someone else?
But why the fuck would anyone else come after Brian and Michelle?
He didn't go inside right away.
Instead, he walked a lap around the area, checking to see if anyone was there.
Nothing.
He had a knife hidden in his car… but the keys weren't on him.
He wanted to call the police—but what if it was already too late?
He bolted into the house.
More than anything, he was terrified something had happened to Michelle.
And he had a gut feeling the guy was waiting.
He felt a deep, bitter regret for not calling the police before.
Michelle wasn't harmed, but she was tied to a chair—
And in front of her stood the masked man, waiting.
"Hello Brian," the masked man said. "Do you remember me?"
"What the fuck do you want, you perverted sick fuck? Leave us the hell alone!"
The masked man shook his head like he was saying "I can't,"
then lowered the gun in his hand and said,
"Theo, huh? You really thought I was him?"
Brian answered, "I can't think of anyone else who'd love Michelle enough to do this."
"Haha, love?" the masked man laughed. "You think that's why I'm here?"
"The day you tied me up, you called Michelle over. That has to mean something.
If this isn't about love, then what is it?
Revenge? I don't think so.
If it were, you'd have just killed me right there.
You wanted Michelle to see you.
You wanted her to be part of it."
The masked man went silent for a moment.
Then he stood up, and calmly—but quickly—walked toward Brian and pointed the gun at his head.
Brian panicked and took a few steps back.
Michelle tried to scream through her gag, but she couldn't stop what was coming.
"You talk too fucking much," the masked man said.
"You'll never know who I am," he added, then turned to leave the house.
But at the door, he stopped and said:
"Don't you get tired of getting drunk and watching movies every weekend?
It's boring. You've been doing the same shit for months.
And dancing while cooking dinner? Is that really you?
You try to hide it from Michelle, but come on man—
you're a fuckin' construction worker.
You think that shit suits a guy like you?"
"Oh, and what about the $8,750 hidden in the inner pocket of that suit in your closet?
The one you've never even worn?"
Brian froze.
"That son of a bitch has been watching us for months."
"How long have you been watching us, you motherfucker?!"
The masked man laughed and said,
"I guess we'll never know,"
tucked the gun into his waistband, opened the door, and just before stepping out, added—
"If you go to the police, you'll find Michelle dead in her bed."
After the masked man left, Brian stood frozen, a storm raging in his head.
Not only had the guy been watching them for months—he had broken into their home.
Was he a creep? A stalker? A psychotic killer?
Then he suddenly remembered—he hadn't untied Michelle.
He turned around and ran to her, quickly undoing the ropes and the gag.
"Did he hurt you?"
"No," Michelle said.
But her trembling voice made it obvious—she was terrified.
The masked man hadn't laid a hand on her, but he had scared the shit out of her.
Days passed, but the two of them couldn't sleep.
They kept checking the windows, constantly on edge.
They never saw the car again, or anyone watching them.
So how was this guy spying on them?
Why did he only show himself with that damn car when he wanted to?
Brian started taking Michelle to work with him, and since he was the site foreman, he mostly just sat in the office all day.
"This isn't good for your pregnancy, babe," he told her.
"Oh really, Brian? No shit."
"Let's move away," Brian said.
But Michelle fell silent, lowering her head.
"No matter where we go, he'll follow us. He's obsessed… with me. With us."
"So what do we do then?" Brian asked.
"Live the rest of our lives like this?
Always being watched?
Always afraid someone could break in and kill us at any moment?"
"In five months, our daughter will be born.
What then?"
"I don't know, baby. I really don't," Michelle said, rubbing her eyes.
Sleep deprivation was eating them alive.
Going to the police sounded logical—but they were afraid.
If this guy had managed all of this for months without getting caught…
what would he do after they filed a report?
They had no evidence.
No leads.
No one to back them up.
No one else even believed them.
So they started inviting people over constantly,
trying not to be alone—at least for a few hours a day.
Because when they were alone, they couldn't stop thinking about the masked man.
And they panicked.
But this couldn't go on forever.
They had to find this guy, get him locked up.
Michelle was so panicked and terrified that their unborn baby girl was at risk.
Brian knew it was up to him now.
He had to make a plan.
He had to stop this psycho.
He didn't share any details with Michelle.
He kept everything in his head, quietly plotting.
He was even starting to suspect their conversations were being listened to.
"How are you, baby?" he asked.
"I don't know, Brian. I don't know. I'm scared. I'm thinking and thinking,
but I can't come up with anything.
Please. Let's do something. Let's stop that motherfucker.
It's been a week. I can't take this anymore," she said—and started to cry.
"I'm calling the police," Brian said.
And he picked up the phone.
"911, what is your emergency?"
"Hi, my name is Brian Easton.
I live with my girlfriend, and last week a masked man broke into our home.
He tied up my girlfriend and held a gun to my head.
Please, we need someone here."
"Help is on the way, Mr. Easton. But I'm going to need you to stay on the line."
"When exactly did this happen?"
"A week ago."
"Why didn't you report it earlier?"
"He said if I did, he'd kill my girlfriend."
"Can you describe him?"
"He's around 6'1", maybe looks young—but could be anywhere from 20 to 50.
He stands very straight. I'm not totally sure."
"Okay. Anything else?"
"He wears a mask—long hair, bloody face design.
It changes his voice, makes it sound high-pitched."
"Understood, sir. Officers are arriving any second.
All I need is for you to stay on the line."
"Of course, ma'am," Brian said.
As he spoke, he was staring out the window.
Looking for the masked man.
But he knew it wouldn't be that easy.
He wondered—
How long would the cops stay out front?
Would they even believe him?
Then suddenly…
The masked man pulled up in a car,
stood in front of their house,
holding a bloody knife in his hand.
He stared right at Brian.
Their eyes locked—for just two seconds.
And then he drove off.
"I fucking knew it.
I fucking knew that you've been watching us all along you psycho."