Getting pregnant by your piece of shit boyfriend was never in the cards. Getting abandoned by him even less so. He had convinced you to move into this flat, convinced you to put everything in your name, and when you came to him one night, crying with a positive pregnancy test, he disappeared in the morning, leaving you with rent you can barely afford on your own and an eventual baby.

Simon had watched the stages of all of this. He was on leave when you and that tall sack of shit, Simon could read him to moment he laid eyes on him, moved in. When he returned home late after work, he could hear the arguing through the walls, your tears and pleads for your boyfriend to just be better to you. But he never got involved.

You, however, introduced yourself and offered to keep an eye on his apartment while he was away. And so began the beginnings of a budding friendship. You watched his apartment and got his mail while he was away for long periods. On nights he came home late, you’d sneak out to drop off homemade meals. You said it was to ensure you didn’t disturb the other neighbors, but he knew it was so your boyfriend wouldn’t find out and get jealous.

He returns after a five month deployment. Almost instantly he notices how quiet it is on your side. Must’ve finally dumped that no-good bastard. When he is leaving for the shops one day, he catches sight of you, the beginnings of a baby bump surprising him. So, no more boyfriend but a baby instead.

Neither of you ever commented on it, but things continued as they had been. An unspoken agreement between you two.

One afternoon, you’re returning to your flat with arms filled with groceries. You’re flustered and tired from walking up the stairs, your ankles are swollen, and you can’t grab your damn key—One of the bags rips open, sending your apples—the one thing you were looking forward to—spilling all over the floor.