The city lights blurred in Nina's tear-filled eyes as she dragged her suitcase down the unfamiliar street. Her phone buzzed endlessly in her pocket missed calls, unanswered messages but she refused to look. Not at Jude's name, not at Andrew's number. She had silenced them all.
The Uber driver had dropped her a block away from Joan's apartment, and now, standing before the familiar door, her knees weakened. It had been years since she'd last seen Joan face-to-face, but tonight she needed her more than ever.
Her trembling fingers pressed the doorbell.
The door opened quickly, revealing Joan her old friend, her confidante from a life that felt so far away. Joan's smile froze when she saw Nina's swollen eyes and the way her hands clutched the handle of her suitcase.
"Nina?" Joan whispered.
The moment she heard her name, Nina broke. She stumbled forward, tears spilling faster, and Joan caught her in a tight embrace.
"I can't anymore," Nina sobbed against her friend's shoulder. "I can't do this, Joan. I'm breaking apart."
"Shhh…" Joan whispered, stroking her hair. "You're safe now. You're here. Come in, love."
She guided Nina inside, closing the door behind them. The warmth of Joan's apartment wrapped around her like a blanket. The faint scent of lavender filled the air, calming yet bittersweet. Joan sat her on the couch, handing her tissues and water.
For a long time, Nina cried, letting out weeks of pent-up pain. Her chest heaved, her throat raw. Only when the sobs eased into small hiccups did Joan speak gently.
"Talk to me, Nina. Tell me everything."
And so she did.
Piece by piece, the story tumbled out. Andrew the betrayal, the lies, the way he broke her heart. Jude the unexpected savior, the passion, the confusion, the way he held her one moment and shut her out the next. Sara the wife who loomed like a shadow, holding something over Jude that made him hers, no matter what.
Joan listened without interrupting, her eyes filled with both sorrow and a quiet fury on her friend's behalf.
When Nina finished, silence lingered, heavy and thick. Finally, Joan reached over, holding her hand.
"You've been through hell," she said softly. "No wonder you're this broken. But listen to me you don't deserve this. Not Andrew's betrayal, not Jude's half-love, not Sara's threats. You deserve someone who chooses you fully, Nina."
Nina's throat tightened again. "But… why does it hurt so much to walk away? Why do I still… feel him inside me?"
Joan squeezed her hand. "Because your heart hasn't caught up with your mind yet. And that's okay. Healing takes time."
Two weeks later. Life with Joan was calm, almost too calm compared to the chaos Nina had fled. She tried to adjust helping Joan cook, scrolling social media in silence, taking long walks to clear her head. But even in the quiet, Jude's ghost clung to her.
She would catch herself remembering the warmth of his arms, the way his lips claimed hers like he owned her, the way his eyes softened when he whispered, "I want you."
But alongside the sweetness came the poison: the secrets, the silence, the way he never said the word love.
Some nights, she cried quietly into her pillow, terrified Joan would hear.
And then, the sickness began.
It was subtle at first. Fatigue. Restlessness. She would wake up dizzy, her stomach unsettled. At first, she blamed the stress, the emotional weight she carried. But then came the morning nausea, the skipped meals, the way certain smells made her recoil.
One morning, as Nina sat at the breakfast table pushing scrambled eggs around her plate, Joan's sharp eyes caught her.
"You've barely eaten all week," Joan said gently. "Are you sick?"
Nina shook her head quickly. "No. Just… tired."
But Joan's gaze lingered. She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Nina… when last did you see your period?"
The fork slipped from Nina's hand, clattering against the plate. Her breath caught in her throat.
"I…" Her voice faltered. She tried to count back the weeks, but her mind spun. Between Andrew, Jude, the nights of passion, the heartbreak time had blurred.
Joan reached across the table, her expression a mix of concern and knowing. "Nina… are you sure you're not pregnant?"
The question hit like a thunderclap.
Nina's world froze.
Her lips parted, but no words came out. She stared at Joan, wide-eyed, her heart hammering in her chest. Pregnant? The word echoed in her mind, both terrifying and undeniable.
In that moment, the room seemed to shrink around her, her breath shallow, her hands trembling.
And deep down, even before the test, even before confirmation… something inside her already knew.
She wasn't just running from Jude anymore.
She was carrying a piece of him. The silence after Joan's question stretched unbearably. Nina's lips trembled, but no sound came out. She sat frozen, staring at her friend as though the very air had been ripped from her lungs.
Pregnant.
The word wrapped itself around her heart like barbed wire.
Joan softened her tone, though her eyes remained sharp. "Nina, it's okay. But we need to know. If you've missed your cycle, if you've been this sick… you can't just ignore it."
"I can't," Nina whispered, shaking her head. "Joan, I can't be pregnant. Not now. Not like this."
Her hands pressed against her stomach, as though trying to deny what her body might already know. Tears pricked her eyes, threatening to spill again.
Joan got up and walked around the table, kneeling in front of her. "Listen to me, sweetheart. If you are, it doesn't mean your life is over. It just means… you'll have decisions to make. But you're not alone, okay? I'll stand by you."
Nina's throat tightened, her emotions colliding fear, disbelief, an ache of longing she couldn't name. She nodded shakily, leaning into Joan's steady embrace.
By evening, Joan had coaxed Nina into leaving the house. They walked to a nearby pharmacy, Nina's hood pulled low, her stomach in knots. Back at the apartment, Joan handed her the small white bag.
"Go," Joan urged gently.
Minutes later, Nina sat on the bathroom floor, clutching the plastic stick as though it were a weapon. Time dragged painfully. Her heart pounded so hard it echoed in her ears.
And then she looked.
Two lines.
Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a cry. The world tilted, crashing down on her. She was pregnant. With Jude's child.
The tears came in heavy waves not just from fear, but from the bittersweet sting of it all. She had tried so hard to leave him behind, to carve out freedom from the chaos. But even now, he lived inside her.
When she finally emerged, Joan was waiting. One look at Nina's face was enough. Joan's expression softened with sympathy.
"It's his, isn't it?" Joan asked quietly.
Nina sank onto the couch, clutching her stomach. "It's Jude's. And now… I don't know what to do."
Meanwhile, across town, in a dimly lit lounge tucked away from prying eyes, Sara leaned against a velvet sofa, her manicured fingers wrapped around a glass of red wine. Andrew sat opposite her, his face tense, his jaw clenched in barely controlled fury.
They were two predators circling the same prey, yet forced into uneasy partnership.
"He hasn't called her," Andrew muttered bitterly. "Not once since she left. Do you know what that means? He doesn't even care."
Sara smirked, swirling her wine. "Oh, darling. Don't fool yourself. Jude cares. He's just chained by me, by what I know. He wouldn't dare risk losing everything by chasing after her."
Andrew's eyes narrowed. "What is it you have on him, anyway? What's this secret that keeps him crawling back to you?"
Sara's smile was cold, dangerous. "That, Andrew, is none of your concern. What matters is this Jude is mine. And if Nina tries to get in the way again…" She sipped her wine slowly, deliberately. "…she'll learn what happens to women who play with fire."
Andrew leaned forward, his voice low. "I don't care what you do to Jude. I just want Nina back. She was mine first."
Sara studied him for a long moment before setting her glass down. "Then we both want the same thing. Jude with me. Nina with you. Perfectly neat."
Andrew's lips curved into a dark smile. "Then let's make sure it stays that way."
They raised their glasses, sealing their pact in silence.
However Nina lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling. Her hand rested gently on her stomach, her thoughts tangled in a storm.
Jude's face haunted her his touch, his kiss, the way he had looked at her when he said, "I want you."
But now she wondered if wanting was enough.
Would he want this child? Would he want her, once Sara played her final card?
She turned onto her side, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. Joan had fallen asleep in the next room, but Nina felt utterly alone.
For the first time in her life, she wasn't just fighting for her own heart anymore. She was fighting for the tiny, fragile life inside her.
And somehow, deep down, she knew her choices from here on out would change everything.