Four months in, and the tiny life growing inside me was already changing everything,vmy body, my mood swings, and the delicate balance I fought to keep between chasing my dreams and battling the relentless waves of morning sickness that didn't care what time it was.
Fashion designing had become more than a passion, it was my lifeline. I'd taken on every small gig I could find: custom dresses for birthdays, alterations for bridal parties, even a few freelance designs for local boutiques. The pay wasn't glamorous, but each stitch brought me closer to my goal, and kept my mind off the growing list of worries.
Mia was my constant. My sounding board. The only one who understood how much I needed this creative outlet,band how much I needed to vent when the pregnancy dragged me down. She'd come over most mornings with a steaming cup of tea and a fresh batch of encouragement.
"Alright, Ms. Future Fashion Icon," Mia teased, plopping down beside me as I hunched over my sketchpad, "How's the empire building today?"
I rolled my eyes, smirking despite the nausea. "Empire's a bit of a stretch. More like a modest little boutique in a tiny town. But hey, you gotta start somewhere."
She grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. "With your talent? You'll have the whole city dressed up before you know it. Just gotta keep that baby bump fed and happy, yeah?"
The pregnancy sickness was no joke, sometimes it felt like my stomach was doing somersaults just for fun. I had to be careful not to push myself too hard, but the hunger to create, to build a future, was fierce.
"Mia, you know what I hate most?" I asked, voice low.
She raised a brow, waiting.
"The way this pregnancy has turned me into a human barf machine. I swear, I'd rather wrestle a bear than deal with the nausea every morning."
Mia laughed, loud and genuine. "Well, if you wrestle that bear, I want front row seats. I'll bring popcorn."
The sound of her laughter filled the room, chasing away the heaviness I felt inside. We were a team, even if the world outside seemed to spin faster than I could keep up.
Between clients and doctor visits, I was learning to navigate this new life, one sketch at a time.
I'd grown used to the little routines, morning sickness battles, sketching new designs, and Mia's endless pep talks. Some days, the exhaustion was overwhelming, but every time I held a finished dress in my hands, I felt like I was one step closer to proving that my life wasn't over just because of this surprise pregnancy.
Mia had become my anchor. She never judged, even when I ranted about the weird cravings or the overwhelming fear of what the future held. "You're going to be an amazing mom and a killer designer," she reminded me over and over. "Don't let this bump slow you down."
On good days, I even let myself imagine the future: a fashion show with my name in lights, twins running around in outfits I designed myself, and maybe, just maybe, Ethan finally stepping back into my life.
But that thought was quickly chased away by the reality, no contact from him, no clue where he was, and my stubborn refusal to ask anyone for help.
One afternoon, after a long day of fittings and fabric swatches, Mia pulled out her phone with a sly smile. 'Remember him?'
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, the mysterious billionaire who disappeared like a ghost."
She chuckled and showed me the screen—a news headline flashing with Ethan Wolfe's name: *'Wolfe Enterprises CEO Shakes Up Industry at Press Conference'*. The photo was recent, showing him commanding the stage with that signature intense look.
"That's him, alright. He's everywhere, making big moves, breaking records. But you? You still can't get a hold of him."
I sighed, heart tightening. The man who walked out of my life without a word was ruling the business world, and I was just trying to keep my small fashion gigs afloat while battling morning sickness.
-
I stared at the glowing screen, the image of Ethan's sharp jawline and cold eyes etched in my mind. It felt surreal, this powerful CEO, the man I barely knew, was running an empire. And here I was, struggling to keep my little designs alive, juggling swollen ankles and endless nausea.
"Mia, how is he so… untouchable? I mean, I'm pregnant with his twins, and I can't even get a text back," I murmured, voice a mix of frustration and disbelief.
She laughed softly, squeezing my hand. "Girl, billionaires don't do casual hookups. He's probably got a fortress around him. But hey, at least you know he's real, and richer than we thought."
I smirked, despite myself. "Yeah, real and rich. Thanks for the update, gossip queen."
Mia grinned. "Anytime. Now, let's talk about your next big project. I'm telling you, your fashion designs could blow up if you just put yourself out there."
I nodded, feeling a spark of determination. The pregnancy was a challenge, but it wasn't going to stop me. I was going to prove I wasn't just some girl stuck in drama, I was a woman with dreams.
"Alright," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Let's get to work."
...
Days blurred together as my pregnancy belly grew bigger, and so did my pile of unfinished designs. Mia was my rock, always pushing me to keep going when my body screamed for rest. There were mornings when nausea hit so hard I thought I'd never make it through the day, but Mia's endless pep talks kept me afloat.
"Girl, you're a powerhouse. Don't let this bump in the road keep you down," she said one afternoon as we sat on my cramped apartment couch, surrounded by sketches and fabric swatches.
I laughed, wobbling slightly as I adjusted my position. "I swear these twins are going to be fashion critics before they're even born. Already ruining my sleep schedule."
Mia's eyes sparkled. "Well, they've got a fierce mom, so it's in their genes."
Despite everything, I felt a warm pride in her words. My babies were already my world.
But sometimes, at night, when the city lights flickered outside my window, doubts crept in.
Would Ethan even care? Would he want to be part of this?
I pushed the questions away and reached for my pencil. The next collection was waiting.
---
The city buzzed faintly outside my window, but inside my little apartment, the world was smaller, quieter. The soft hum of the sewing machine was the only soundtrack to my thoughts, which spun like a whirlwind, dreams tangled with fears.
Mia sat nearby, sipping her third coffee of the day, eyes scanning my latest sketches. "Talia, these are fire. Seriously, you're onto something."
I smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Thanks, Ma. I'm trying to prove to myself I'm more than this bump, more than the sleepless nights and the nausea."
She reached over and squeezed my hand. "You are, Talia. You've got fire and heart. Don't let this slow you down."
Her words warmed me, but the truth was, every kick from the twins reminded me how much my world was shifting. The man I barely knew, the one night that changed everything , Ethan, was a mystery I couldn't stop unraveling.
Mia pulled out a glossy magazine from her bag, flipping it open to a cover featuring a sharp-suited man behind a podium. "Speaking of mysteries... Ethan Wolfe made headlines again."
I leaned in, scanning the bold letters: *"Billionaire CEO's New Vision Shakes Industry."*
My heart did a little flip. The man who vanished that morning was a titan I'd never expected to cross paths with again. And yet, here he was , a world away from the club, powerful, untouchable.
Mia smirked. "Fancy, huh? Bet you didn't know you were rubbing shoulders with a CEO."
I shrugged, biting my lip. "I thought he was just… Ethan."
Her eyes softened. "Well, he's more than that now. And so are you, Talia. You're going to be a mom, a designer, a queen."
I laughed, though a knot twisted in my stomach. "Feels like I'm just trying to keep my head above water."
"Then swim, girl," Mia said, her voice fierce. "Swim like your life depends on it, because it does."
And maybe she was right. Maybe it was time to stop running from the unknown and start owning my story.
Days blurred together as I balanced swollen ankles, morning sickness that didn't care about time of day, and the delicate threads of my dreams. The small gigs I landed barely covered rent, but they kept me tethered to hope.
Mia was my rock, always ready with a sarcastic comment to lighten the mood or a warm hug when the nausea hit hard. "You know," she said one evening, as I sat sprawled on the couch sketching late into the night, "if fashion designing doesn't work out, you could always become a professional napper."
I chuckled, rubbing my belly. "The twins would approve."
Sometimes I wondered what Ethan was doing, if he even thought about me. The image of that magazine haunted my mind, the man I barely knew but somehow already mattered so much.
But I was Talia James, independent and stubborn, and I wasn't about to crumble. The twins were my future, and I'd make sure they knew their mom fought tooth and nail to give them the best.
.....
Ethan Wolfe sat behind the sleek mahogany desk in his penthouse office, the city lights casting a cold glow over his face. His mind wasn't on the quarterly reports or the stock market...no, it was on her. Talia. The woman from that reckless night who had vanished like a ghost.
He ran a hand through his dark hair, frustration knotting his jaw. The memory of her laughter, sharp and unfiltered, haunted him more than he cared to admit. But more than that, there was a gnawing suspicion, something he couldn't shake.
"Find her," he ordered the private investigator he had hired discreetly. "And don't come back without her name and where she's hiding."
He wanted answers. What was she hiding, Why hadn't she bothered to reach out, Does she hate him?, The burning question that consumed him though, was this..was there more to that night than a simple encounter?
He pushed the thought away. For now, all that mattered was finding her.
Ethan's obsession grew day by day. Every lead the investigator sent was scrutinized with a meticulousness only a billionaire CEO could command. The more he dug, the more he realized that Talia was not just a fleeting mistake, she was a puzzle he was desperate to solve.
He found himself replaying their brief moments together, her fiery spirit, the way she challenged him even in the silence of that hotel room. It was unlike anything he'd ever encountered. Usually, control was effortless for him. But with Talia, control slipped through his fingers like smoke.
His nights were restless. His usual cold, unshakable exterior cracked in the solitude of his penthouse. He didn't want to admit it, but a part of him hoped she'd come back on her own. But time was running out. He needed to know if she was okay, if there was more to their story.
One evening, while reviewing photos from the investigator, his phone buzzed. A new lead. A name. An address.
His pulse quickened. This was no longer just about curiosity. It was about finding the truth, and about making sure she couldn't disappear again.
...
The tiny studio apartment smelled faintly of lavender and paint, Talia's attempt at creating a calming space amidst the chaos of deadlines and nausea. She sat cross-legged on the worn-out couch, sketchbook balanced on her knees, trying to bring to life the dress that had been swirling in her mind all week.
"Honestly, Tally, if I didn't know better, I'd say you're designing for a queen, not a broke artist," Mia teased, sprawled beside her with a half-eaten granola bar.
Talia smirked despite the queasy wave hitting her. "Well, one day, this broke artist will be the queen of runway."
Mia nudged her gently. "And don't you forget it. But for now, you need to pace yourself. Your 'morning sickness' is giving me secondhand nausea."
Talia groaned. "Thanks for that vivid image."
They both laughed, the easy camaraderie a balm to the exhaustion Talia felt. The baby kicks were getting stronger these days, and though she loved feeling them, they were a constant reminder that her life was about to change, whether she was ready or not.
"You ever think about him?" Mia asked suddenly, eyes narrowing with that familiar, knowing glint.
Talia shrugged, biting her lip. "Doesn't do me any good. I barely know him."
"But you remember his name, Ethan," Mia said, voice softening. "And that smile? Come on, Talia."
Talia's cheeks flushed, but she looked away, pretending to focus on her sketch. "Yeah, I remember."
The silence between them was comfortable, filled with unspoken hopes and fears.
"We're gonna get through this," Mia said, reaching over to squeeze Talia's hand. "Fashion gigs, pregnancy drama, and whatever else life throws at you."
Talia smiled, feeling the warmth of friendship settle deep inside. Somehow, that was enough, for now.
Later that evening, Talia was seated on the floor of her bedroom, surrounded by scattered fabric samples, thread spools, and her sewing machine humming gently beside her. Her lower back ached, and her ankles had started swelling earlier than usual that day, but she was on a deadline.
The client, a last-minute referral from one of Mia's friends, wanted a custom piece for a birthday dinner. The kind of gig Talia couldn't afford to turn down.
She adjusted the dress on the mannequin and stepped back, brushing curls from her face. "You'd think this baby would give me more energy instead of acting like a boss already," she mumbled.
A knock came at the door. Mia peeked in, holding up a tub of ice cream and a cucumber face mask. "You've officially entered third-trimester war mode. Come get pampered or I'm applying this mask on you by force."
Talia smiled. "Give me five minutes. I'm almost done with the hem."
"You always say that and then work two more hours. I'm serious, girl. Baby Zane and Baby Luna need rest."
At the mention of the names they'd picked, Zane and Luna, Talia paused, her throat tightening with a mix of emotion and disbelief. Two lives growing inside her. A boy and a girl.
She placed a hand on her belly, feeling a small flutter beneath her palm. "I got you," she whispered. "Mama's doing this for all of us."
***
Later, lying on the couch with her feet propped on Mia's lap and a face mask hardening over her skin, Talia finally allowed herself to breathe.
"You know," Mia said lazily, flipping through a fashion magazine, "if your client likes that dress, she could recommend you to her boutique circle. You might start making real money."
"That would be a dream." Talia blinked up at the ceiling. "I just want enough to give the twins a good life. Their own room. A proper crib. Maybe even a garden."
"And their father?"
Talia froze.
Mia sighed. "Sorry. I just.. do you want him to know?"
"I don't know. Part of me wants to scream it at the sky and make him feel all the things I've felt since he left. But the other part? I'm scared. What if he doesn't care?"
Mia didn't respond. She just reached over and squeezed her hand.
Outside, the city hummed with distant sirens and laughter from nearby apartments.
Inside, Talia's world was quiet, filled with fabric dreams, silent questions, and two tiny heartbeats she was slowly learning to live for.
Ethan Wolfe rarely lost control.
He had built his empire from precision, order, and strategy,every deal, every hire, every asset calculated down to the decimal. But her?
Talia.
She was the one variable he hadn't planned for. The woman who slipped through his fingers after one unforgettable night, leaving behind only a name, a curve of a smile, and the haunting memory of her laugh.
He leaned back in his penthouse office chair, the city glittering behind him through floor-to-ceiling windows. He wasn't working. He couldn't.
Instead, his gaze dropped to the slim folder on his desk, his third attempt at locating her.
"Still no luck?" Elijah, his assistant, asked from the doorway.
Ethan's jaw flexed. "It's like she vanished. No full name. No number. She paid in cash. I've searched every hotel record from that night. Nothing."
"You're sure you want to keep digging?"
"She was different." He stood, walking to the window. "She didn't want anything from me. Didn't even know who I was."
That part lingered most.
She'd looked at him like a man, not a CEO. Touched him without caution. Kissed him without calculation. Then left without even asking for his number.
It should've been refreshing. Instead, it drove him insane.
"She's out there somewhere," he muttered. "And I want to know why I can't stop thinking about her."
Elijah hesitated, then placed a card on the desk. "Private investigator. Discreet. Expensive. But effective."
Ethan stared at the card, then nodded. "Do it."
As the door clicked shut behind Elijah, Ethan allowed himself one moment of vulnerability. He sat back down, running a hand through his hair.
He'd searched for power his whole life. But in one night with her, he felt something *more*.
And if she was carrying something beyond just his memory...
He had a right to know.
Sooner or later, he'd find her.
And when he did...he wasn't letting her go.