There's something ironic about throwing up while reading fashion news.
I was huddled on the bathroom floor, one hand gripping a ginger ale, the other holding my phone, when Mia burst through the door without knocking. Again.
"Girl, I swear, guess who's on the cover of *Business Weekly*?"
"I'm busy bonding with the toilet," I groaned.
"Not anymore. You need to see this."
She shoved her phone in my face. A sharp-jawed man in a navy suit stared back from the screen. Sharp features, cold eyes, the kind of jaw you could grate cheese on. And that name.
*Ethan Wolfe. CEO. Billionaire. Private. Ruthless.*
Time stopped.
My fingers froze on the phone, and my stomach did a different kind of flip.
"Wait… that's *him*," I whispered.
Mia blinked. "Him who?"
I sat back against the tub. "The guy. Vegas guy. One-night-stand guy."
Mia's jaw dropped so hard I thought it would hit the tile. "Wait. Wait. You slept with Ethan Wolfe?! As in, the Ethan Wolfe?! The billionaire?!"
I nodded slowly.
She screamed into a towel.
"You've been carrying billionaire babies and didn't even know?!"
My heart pounded. "I just knew his name was Ethan. He didn't give me a last name. No number. Nothing."
"Oh, babe. He gave you *something*."
I tossed a nearby shampoo bottle at her.
I sank back onto the couch, the magazine article now open on Mia's tablet, but my eyes weren't on the words. They were on *him*. Ethan Wolfe. Billionaire CEO of Wolfe Industries. A man with an empire… and apparently, a taste for dimly lit Vegas bars and broke fashion designers with too much eyeliner.
"He said he was in town for business," I mumbled.
Mia sat beside me, slack-jawed. "Talia… you slept with *the* Ethan Wolfe. Like, Forbes-Top-30-Under-30 Ethan. You *birthed twins for a man who owns skyscrapers.* And the worst part? You didn't even get his number!"
"I didn't know!" I groaned, burying my face in a cushion. "He left before I woke up. I barely remembered his last name. There was no number, no card, no nothing!"
"Well, now you've got something better," she said with a wicked grin, tapping the screen. "Publicity."
"Absolutely not."
"Come on! You could leak the story...make millions. 'Vegas One Night Stand Turns Into Billionaire's Babies.' I smell a reality show."
"Mia," I said, deadly serious. "I don't want to chase him down. I just… I just wanted to know who he was. Maybe even let him know about the twins."
Mia softened. "You still think he deserves to know?"
I glanced down at my stomach, already starting to curve, then at the sketchpad lying forgotten on the coffee table. "I don't know. But they deserve the chance to know where they came from."
She placed a hand on mine. "Then we'll find him. The right way. No drama. No headlines."
"And no reality shows," I added.
"No promises."
Later that evening, I sat cross-legged on the floor of my apartment, the twins' empty cribs beside me and a notepad in my lap. The sun had long set, and Mia had left after triple-checking that I wasn't going to go full spiral.
Too late.
I'd already Googled "How to contact a billionaire" like a crazy person.
Every article either pointed me toward investor hotlines, unreachable secretaries, or flat-out said: "You can't."
I scribbled down numbers anyway. PR lines, generic office numbers, even a random extension Mia found on Reddit.
I cleared my throat, picked one, and dialed.
Ring.
Ring.
"This is Wolfe Industries. How may I assist you?"
I nearly dropped the phone. "Um… hi. I'm trying to reach Ethan Wolfe."
Pause. "Mr. Wolfe does not take unscheduled calls."
"Right. Of course. I just… I met him a while ago. It's kind of important. It's..well, it's personal."
"Are you with a partner company or legal representative?"
"No, I'm...."
Click.
I stared at the phone. "She hung up on me."
I dialed another. And another.
Each call ended the same way.
Either I didn't exist, or Ethan Wolfe didn't.
By midnight, I was surrounded by scribbled notes, open tabs, and frustration.
It wasn't just about the night anymore. Or even the babies.
It was about knowing I carried something, two someones, that connected me to a world I couldn't even touch.
The next morning, Mia walked in with coffee and a bag of breakfast sandwiches. She took one look at the chaos and groaned.
"Oh no. You're in the spiral stage."
"I hit every extension they've got," I muttered. "They probably flagged my number."
"Babe, you can't just call up a billionaire and expect him to pick up."
"I know," I sighed. "But it's just, how do I not tell him?"
Mia sat beside me. "Look, you did your part. You're not some crazy baby mama hunting him down for child support. You just wanted to tell him. If he's impossible to reach, that's on him."
I nodded, but something still tugged at me. A sense that this wasn't the end.
That fate, sassy and dramatic as she was, had other plans.
Talia sat cross-legged on the worn-out couch, a sketchbook balanced on her knees, her pencil dancing over the pages as ideas came to life. Designs filled the pages, bold patterns, sleek cuts, and vibrant colors, a reflection of everything she dreamed her brand could be.
Mia flopped beside her, grabbing a handful of chips from the bowl on the coffee table. "Girl, these designs are fire! You're going to kill it at the fashion show next month."
Talia smiled, her eyes bright despite the weight she carried silently inside her. "Thanks, Mia. I just hope someone else sees the vision, you know? It's not just clothes, it's a statement."
Mia nodded, crunching chips dramatically. "And you're going to make that statement loud and clear. But listen, you've been kind of distant lately, no jokes, no roasting me. What's going on?"
Talia hesitated, but shook her head, forcing a laugh. "Just stressed, you know? Trying to get everything perfect. And you know how I am with deadlines."
Mia nudged her playfully. "Uh huh. You and your 'perfect' deadlines. Just don't forget to breathe, okay? And hey, if you ever need a model, I'm your girl."
Talia grinned. "Deal. But only if you promise not to scare off the clients."
They laughed, the lightness of their friendship a welcome escape from Talia's swirling thoughts.
Mia's eyes softened as she watched Talia sketch. "You know, I'm really proud of you, T. Handling all this.. your designs, the pregnancy, like a boss."
Talia sighed, her pencil slowing. "Some days I wonder if I'm doing the right thing. I mean, who even plans to have twins when they barely have a stable career?"
Mia reached over, squeezing her friend's hand gently. "Hey, you're not alone in this. And you're stronger than you think. Plus, those twins are lucky to have you."
Talia chuckled dryly. "Strong doesn't mean I'm not scared, though. What if Ethan never shows up? Or worse, what if he doesn't want anything to do with us?"
Mia gave her a pointed look. "Listen, you told me the whole story, how he disappeared without a trace. But you're not going to let that break you, right? You're going to prove to everyone, especially yourself, that you can do this."
Talia nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Yeah, I guess. I just have to focus on my dream. Fashion. That's what keeps me sane."
Mia grinned. "And that's why I'm your number one fan. Now, show me more designs. I want to see what magic you're cooking up next."
Talia smiled, flipping the page to reveal a stunning evening gown design. "This one's special. Inspired by the idea of light breaking through darkness."
Mia's eyes sparkled. "Just like you, girl."
Talia's fingers danced over the fabric swatches as she explained her vision. "I want this dress to feel like hope. Like, no matter what shadows you've been through, there's always a chance for light."
Mia nodded thoughtfully. "That's deep. And honestly, with everything you're juggling, it makes perfect sense. Your designs are practically telling your story."
"Maybe that's why I'm so obsessed with fashion right now," Talia admitted, biting her lip. "It's my escape. When I'm creating, I don't have to think about the baby kicking inside me or the fact that Ethan vanished without a word."
Mia laughed, nudging her. "Well, if you ask me, you're doing better than fine. You're a damn queen."
Talia raised an eyebrow. "Queen, huh? More like a hot mess trying to hold it together."
They both burst out laughing, the tension in the room easing for a moment.
"Seriously though, Mia," Talia said softly, "thank you. For sticking around, for believing in me when I sometimes don't believe in myself."
Mia's smile was warm. "That's what best friends are for. Besides, who else is going to keep you from eating ice cream for breakfast?"
Talia grinned. "True. I probably need that."
Suddenly, her phone buzzed with a message from her doctor: 'Your test results are ready. Please schedule a follow-up.'
Her heart skipped a beat.
Mia noticed and asked, "Everything okay?"
Talia forced a smile. "Yeah. Just the next step, I guess."
Mia gave her a supportive squeeze. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together."
The two women sat in comfortable silence, the future uncertain but their bond unbreakable.
As the afternoon light filtered softly through the curtains, I felt a sudden flutter in my chest, not the baby this time, but a swirl of emotions I wasn't ready to face just yet. The idea of those test results sitting somewhere, waiting to be opened, was like a tiny weight pressing down on me.
Mia, sensing my unease, grabbed my hand. "Hey, no matter what, you're not alone in this. We'll figure it out. And you've got that wild dream of yours to chase. Fashion is your future, Talia."
I smiled weakly but it was the truth. Designing wasn't just a career for me, it was my sanctuary. Every stitch and sketch was a piece of hope I desperately needed. Yet, a shadow lingered in the back of my mind, the memory of Ethan's disappearing act after that night.
That night.
How could I forget? The lights, the music pounding through my veins, and then him, tall, dark, mysterious Ethan. Our eyes met, a spark, a connection, and everything else faded. The reckless, beautiful chaos of one wild night that neither of us seemed to want to explain the next day.
Except I wanted answers.
And now, here I was, balancing this secret, a secret growing inside me like a fragile whisper of new life, with dreams, fears, and a future uncertain as the skyline outside my window.
Mia squeezed my hand again. "Let's make a promise. Whatever happens next, you keep fighting, keep designing, and keep laughing, especially laughing."
I laughed then...soft, shaky, but real. "Deal."
Because for the first time in a while, I felt a tiny spark of something I hadn't dared to feel in months: hope.
The days that followed slipped by in a blur of sketches, fabric swatches, and late-night brainstorming sessions with Mia. My tiny apartment became a whirlwind of creativity, colorful threads spilling out of boxes, mannequins draped in half-finished dresses, and the constant hum of the sewing machine like a heartbeat in the background. Designing was my escape, my way to drown out the chaos of my thoughts.
Mia was my anchor through it all. She was relentless, funny, and fiercely loyal, the kind of friend who could make me laugh until I forgot the growing knot of anxiety twisting inside me. Her presence was like a warm blanket on cold nights, her teasing remarks always reminding me to keep my head high. "Talia, if you don't laugh, you'll cry, and girl, we both know you cry enough already."
Some nights, she'd catch me talking to myself, ranting about Ethan or the ridiculousness of my situation. "Ma'am, you're getting crazier by the minute," she'd joke, but she never judged. Instead, she'd listen with patient eyes, ready to catch the pieces when I inevitably broke down.
Despite the fear gnawing at my edges, there was also excitement. I pictured my designs on runways, in glossy magazines, on women who, like me, dared to dream big. Every sketch was a promise, to my unborn children, to myself, that no matter what happened, I would fight for this life we deserved.
But some nights, when the apartment was quiet and the world outside seemed so far away, I allowed myself to think about that night again. The way Ethan's eyes had held a secret, the way he'd vanished without a word the next morning, leaving me with nothing but a name and a memory. How easy it had been for him to slip away while I was left to face the consequences alone.
It was maddening. And yet, I found a strange comfort in the mystery. Maybe some stories weren't meant to be unraveled just yet.
One evening, Mia and I sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by sketches and empty coffee cups, when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, her face lighting up. "Talia, you need to see this."
I leaned over to look, and there he was, Ethan Wolfe, on the cover of a glossy magazine, headlining the latest tech billionaires taking over the world. The man who had been nothing more than a stranger with a familiar name was suddenly larger than life, his sharp eyes staring right through the glossy page.
My breath caught. This was the man who'd shared my night, the father of my unborn children, and I had no idea.
Mia nudged me gently. "You okay?"
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Yeah. Just… a lot to process."
She smiled softly, "Well, now you know. And maybe, just maybe, this mystery man's got a little more story than you think."
For the first time, the future didn't feel so dark. It felt complicated, yes, but full of possibilities.
I glanced at the growing life inside me and whispered, "We're going to be okay. Somehow."
And somehow, that was enough to keep me going.