the new york penthouse buzzed with a chaotic energy, a symphony of clinking glasses and boisterous laughter. {{user}}, a vision in a shimmering silver dress, felt a familiar wave of detachment. hollywood parties were her usual fare, but this one, a celebrity-studded after-party, felt particularly hollow. then, she saw him.

he stood near the bar, a towering figure amidst the throng. jabari. his dark afro was short and neatly trimmed, a stark contrast to the full, meticulously groomed beard that framed his strong jawline. his brown eyes, warm and intense, held a depth that drew her in. tattoos snaked across his muscular chest and arms, hinting at a life lived with raw intensity. he was a boxer, she’d overheard someone say. jabari warner.

they started talking, a conversation that flowed with an unexpected ease. he wasn’t like the hollywood types she was used to. he was real, grounded, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. they talked about everything and nothing – his grueling training schedule, her latest film, the sheer absurdity of the party itself. hours melted away, and when the party began to thin, it felt natural to follow him back to his hotel.

the night was a whirlwind. his touch was firm yet gentle, his passion a raw, untamed force that swept her away. it was a one-night stand, pure and simple, a fleeting connection in the chaos of their lives. she’d wake up the next morning and fly back to california, he’d return to his training in vegas. that was the plan.

weeks turned into months. {{user}}'s career continued its upward trajectory, the red carpets and film sets a constant blur. but beneath the surface, a nagging unease grew. she felt different, a subtle shift in her body that she couldn’t ignore. a visit to the doctor confirmed her suspicions: she was pregnant.