Stephanie's eyes welled with tears.
"I need to know the truth," Samuel said, his voice low but steady. "Tell me what happened. Please."
She turned her head away, lips trembling. No words came. Not yet.
"Don't lie to me," he added, his voice breaking slightly.
A long pause. Then another.
And finally—she spoke, barely a whisper.
"I went to the hospital," she said quietly.
"Okay," Samuel replied gently, urging her to continue, his eyes locked on her face.
"Please forgive me," she murmured, her voice cracking. "I went for an abortion."
Samuel didn't react at first. He just stared—frozen. It was as if the entire room fell into a vacuum. His mind blanked, his heart thudding like a war drum. For a moment, he couldn't feel his own body. Only the echo of her words bouncing painfully inside his chest.
"You… did what?" he asked, voice barely above a breath, full of disbelief.
Stephanie's eyes flooded. "I was scared. Everything is happening so fast. I didn't want you to leave me because of the pregnancy…"
He took a step back, blinking rapidly—like the room had suddenly become unfamiliar, like she was no longer the girl he'd opened his heart to.
"You thought I'd leave?" His voice cracked with both hurt and rising anger. "After everything I've done—everything I've said? I told you we'd face it together."
"I know… I know you said that," she whispered. "And I know you care about me. I'm very sorry. I just—I didn't want to be abandoned again. What are you saying? Have I done anything wrong to you since we met?"
She paused, searching his eyes for forgiveness that wouldn't come.
"And you went and did such a thing without telling me?" His voice dropped. "Did Victoria know about this?"
"Yes," she replied, guilt thick in her throat. "She's the one who took me there."
Samuel clenched his fists. His chest tightened with a fury that scared even him—not because he wanted to lash out, but because he never imagined she would be the one to betray his trust so deeply.
"Who paid for it?" he asked sharply.
Stephanie hesitated, then lowered her head. "I used your card."
His face changed. Anger, disbelief, and heartbreak collided in his expression.
"I see," he said, his voice cold now. "So you and Victoria used my money… to do something like this. You didn't even have enough regard to tell me. You don't care about me, do you?"
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. "I found you bleeding, Stephanie," he said through clenched teeth. "On the floor. Cold. Barely conscious. Do you know what could've happened? What almost happened?"
She covered her face with trembling hands. "I didn't think it would go that far."
"Exactly. You didn't think," he snapped. "What if you'd died? Do you know what would've happened to me? I would've been accused. People would say I got you pregnant and forced you into it. I'd be in prison right now!"
"I wasn't trying to put you in danger," she cried, her voice breaking. "Please… I'm sorry…"
"But you did!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. He stopped pacing, fists clenched at his sides. "You did it in secret. You used the card I gave you for groceries and clothes to pay for this. You made me an accomplice to something I never agreed to. Do you even realize what you've done?"
She broke down, sobbing now—her whole body shaking like a leaf caught in a storm. "I didn't know what else to do… I thought this was the only way to erase everything."
Samuel's chest heaved. He stood there, breathing hard. And then—despite the betrayal, despite the fury—something in him softened. The girl in front of him wasn't his enemy. She was broken, terrified, desperate.
He took a slow breath.
"And Victoria helped you?" he asked, voice quieter now.
"She didn't force me," Stephanie replied, wiping her tears. "She just… went with me."
Samuel's jaw tightened. Without another word, he picked up his phone and dialed Victoria.
She answered after two rings.
"Hello?"
"Victoria. What kind of friend are you?" His voice was cold, clipped.
"Samuel? Wait—what?"
"You took Stephanie to abort her pregnancy. You stood there while she risked her life, and you didn't say a word. You both did this without even telling me."
"I didn't force her," Victoria said quickly. "She made the decision—"
"I don't care," he cut her off. "She almost died. You knew she was staying with me. You knew I cared about her. But instead of telling me, you played along. That's not support. That's manipulation."
"Please, just let me explain—"
"There's nothing to explain," Samuel said flatly. "Don't come near her again. Don't call. Don't text. If you care about her at all, you'll leave her alone."
And with that, he ended the call.
The room fell into silence again.
Stephanie had stopped crying, but her face remained wet with tears. "You didn't have to say all that," she whispered. "It's not her fault. She was just trying to help."
"You may not see it now," Samuel said gently, "but you need space from people who help you make choices you'll regret."
He sat beside her, placing a hand gently on her back.
They stayed like that for a long while—saying nothing. Just breathing in the quiet.
Hours passed. The afternoon melted into evening. The light outside dimmed, casting long orange streaks across the marble floor.
Then came a knock at the door.
Samuel rose and opened it to find Simon standing there, holding a small bag of takeout and a bottle of juice. His usual cheerful expression faded when he saw the look on Samuel's face.
"Rough day?" Simon asked.
Samuel sighed, stepping aside. "You could say that."
Simon walked in, glanced toward the living room and spotted Stephanie seated quietly on the couch. She looked drained, her shoulders slumped.
"Hey," Simon greeted her softly. "How are you holding up?"
"Hi," she replied softly, managing a faint smile.
"She said it was an emergency," Simon said, then turned to Samuel. "Is everything alright now?"
Samuel hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah."
Stephanie looked like she wanted to say something, but stopped herself after hearing Samuel's reply. She lowered her gaze.
"Alright," Simon said, trying to lighten the mood. "I brought food."
As Simon unpacked the bag, Samuel sat beside Stephanie again, briefly joining the small talk. They discussed work and random things—mostly Simon and Samuel carrying the conversation. Eventually, Stephanie rose without a word and retreated into the guest room, closing the door softly behind her.
Now alone in the living room, Simon glanced at Samuel.
"Samuel," he began carefully. "You don't have to pretend everything's fine while she's here. Tell me what happened. You said it was an emergency."
Samuel exhaled deeply, like he'd been holding the weight of the day in his chest. "She nearly put me in serious trouble today. She nearly died. I'm still trying to process everything."
"What happened?" Simon asked, brows furrowed.
"You won't believe it," Samuel said, staring at the floor. "She went for an abortion."
"What?" Simon's voice was sharp with shock.
"I found her lying on the floor when I got back from work last night," Samuel continued. "Blood everywhere."
Simon's jaw tensed. His fists clenched at his sides. For a moment, it looked like he might storm into the guest room—but he held back.
"I warned you about this," Simon said, frustration thick in his voice. "I saw it coming. But you insisted on being the good Samaritan."
"So what? You think I should throw her out now?" Samuel asked quietly. "In this condition?"
Simon shook his head. "No, but don't be naïve either. You're still not thinking clearly. What if something worse happens? Do you think anyone's going to believe your side of the story?"
He leaned in, voice low and serious. "She has a family, Samuel. Maybe a brother, maybe a father out there. Have you even thought about what happens if they find you here with her in this state?"
Samuel nodded slowly, visibly pained. "I know, Simon. I've thought about all of it. I'm just… confused. I don't want to add more pain to what she's already going through."
Simon sat back, arms crossed. "I get it. But you need to be careful, man. This isn't just about emotions anymore. It's about consequences."
And for a moment, neither of them said a word. The weight of what had happened—and what could still happen—hung thick in the air.
Samuel leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice low and worn. "I'm trying, Simon. But something doesn't sit right."
Simon didn't flinch. He leaned in, voice calm but sharp. "Then start asking the right questions—before it's too late."
Just then, Samuel's phone buzzed on the table.
Incoming Call — Victoria.
He stared at the screen, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.
Simon gave him a sharp glance. "You picking that up?"
Samuel nodded slowly and answered. "Hello?"
But it wasn't Victoria's voice that came through.
It was a deep, gravelly voice—controlled, cold, and unfamiliar.
"Samuel."
His blood ran cold.
"Who is this?"
A pause.
Then the voice returned, slow and deliberate.
"My name is Don Jack. I'm Stephanie's boyfriend."
Samuel's heart dropped. The room tilted. Simon sat upright, eyes wide, tension rippling through his posture.