Alan's POV
The doctor said, "Mr. Jean, could I have a word outside?"
My chest tightened instantly.
Ashley was half-asleep, her face pale against the white hospital sheets. She looked fragile — too fragile. I wanted to refuse, to stay right beside her until she opened her eyes, but the doctor's expression told me not to argue.
So I followed him into the hallway.
He led me down a quiet stretch, away from nurses and noise, where the air itself felt heavy.
"Is she okay?" I asked quickly. "What's wrong with her?"
The doctor hesitated — that half-second pause that makes your heart sink before the words even come.
He looked up from the file. "Well… not wrong, exactly."
"Then what?" I snapped, my voice sharper than I meant.
He glanced up again, cautious. "Mr. Jean, Ms. Walter is pregnant."
The world went silent.
I just stood there, staring at him, waiting for him to laugh, to correct himself, something.
"I'm sorry— what?"
He repeated it, calm and steady. "Ms. Walter is pregnant. Roughly six weeks."
Six weeks.
That night. The gala. The hotel room.
My heart sank into my stomach.
And then it hit me — maybe this was what she'd been trying to tell me. All those pauses, the way she'd been distant, uneasy.
"Oh my God…" I muttered under my breath, rubbing my jaw.
The doctor shifted awkwardly. "She'll be awake soon. I think it's best you speak with her directly."
"Right," I murmured, barely hearing him.
I just nodded and turned back toward the room. My legs felt heavy, my chest hollow.
Pregnant.
She's pregnant.
And I didn't even know.
When I stepped back inside, Ashley was awake. Her eyes found mine instantly — wide, anxious, as if she already knew what the doctor had said.
"Alan," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "What did he say?"
I closed the door quietly and walked closer. For a moment, I couldn't speak. My throat was dry, my thoughts tangled.
"Did you already know?" I finally asked.
Her face went still. "What?"
"Did you already know, Ashley?" I repeated softly.
Her lips trembled before she spoke. "Yes."
I swallowed hard. "How long?"
"A week," she said, almost in a whisper. "I found out a week ago."
A wave of emotion hit me — disbelief, anger, confusion, but mostly worry. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Her voice cracked. "Because I didn't know how. Because this isn't supposed to be happening, Alan."
I sat down on the edge of the bed, forcing myself to breathe. "So that's what you were trying to tell me earlier?"
She nodded faintly, eyes wet.
I dragged a hand down my face. "Jesus, Ashley."
Her tears slipped free then. "I didn't want to drag you into this mess. You have your own family, your father, the company—"
"Stop," I cut in gently. "You think any of that matters right now?"
Her gaze lifted, uncertain. "It should. It's your family's name, Alan. And mine. And now…"
She broke off, pressing a hand to her stomach.
"Now everything's falling apart," she whispered.
I took her hand. She stiffened at first, then let me hold it. Her fingers were cold.
"Hey," I said softly. "We'll figure this out, okay? One step at a time."
She shook her head. "You don't understand. My fiancé's coming back in four months. The wedding is less than a year away. What am I supposed to do?"
I paused, searching her face. "Richard."
She nodded, voice shaking. "He's… good. Kind. He doesn't deserve this."
"And you're still getting married to him?"
She looked down, biting her lip. "It's arranged, Alan. It's business. My father would never forgive me if I backed out now."
The mention of her father made my stomach twist.
I hesitated, then asked, "Ashley… is it mine?"
Her eyes shot up. "You think I'd lie about that?"
"No," I said quickly. "I just… I need to know for sure."
She exhaled shakily. "It's yours, Alan. We haven't— Richard and I— we haven't been intimate in months. He's not even in the country. You're the only one…" Her voice cracked. "You're the only one it could be."
I leaned back, trying to take it in, the air thick and unreal.
"You're pregnant with my child," I whispered, almost to myself.
She nodded, a tear sliding down her cheek.
I reached up and brushed it away. "Then we'll deal with it together."
Her head snapped up. "Together?"
"Yes," I said, firmer this time. "You're not alone in this, Ash. Not for a single second."
Her lip trembled. "Alan, this could destroy everything. Our families— if they find out—"
"They won't," I said. "Not until we decide what to do."
Her shoulders shook. "You say that like it's simple."
"It's not simple," I said quietly. "But it's real. And I'm not running from it."
She stared at me like she didn't quite believe it.
"You don't have to protect me," she said softly. "You don't owe me anything."
I laughed once, bitterly. "Ashley, you're carrying my child. Don't ever say I don't owe you anything."
Her breath hitched.
"I don't know what happens next," I said honestly. "I don't even know what tomorrow looks like. But I know I'm not walking away from you."
Tears spilled freely now, silent and endless.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The hum of the machines filled the silence, the rhythm of her breathing grounding me in a moment I didn't know how to handle.
Finally, she whispered, "I don't love him, Alan."
The confession hung heavy in the air.
"I don't love Richard. I never have. I was just… trying to do what was expected."
I closed my eyes. "And now?"
She exhaled shakily. "Now I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore."
I moved closer, gently cupping her face. "Then start by being honest. With yourself. With me."
Her gaze flicked up, eyes red but steady. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying," I murmured, "that maybe this is the universe's twisted way of giving us another chance."
Her breath caught. "You think this is fate?"
"I think it's something," I said. "Something we can't ignore anymore."
She let out a shaky laugh — half disbelief, half relief — and leaned into my hand.
"Alan…" she whispered.
"Yeah?"
"I'm scared."
"I know," I said softly. "But we'll face it together. Whatever comes next — your father, the press, Richard — we'll face it."
Her eyes filled again, but this time with something gentler. "You really mean that?"
"I've never meant anything more."
For a while, she said nothing — just looked at me, breathing slow, eyes tracing my face like she was memorizing it.
And even with everything falling apart around us, I knew one thing for sure.
I wasn't leaving her. Not now. Not ever.