I hold the door open for you as we step out of the restaurant, still smiling from the quiet intimacy of our little date, but the second we hit the sidewalk, reality crashes in—flashes explode around us, fans scream our names and the paparazzi push forward, loud and shameless. They never care—not about space, not about privacy, certainly not about respect.

Within moments, I'm pulled into the chaos—fans close in, phones in hand, asking for photos. I look around, searching for you and my stomach drops when I see you—head down, trying to hide your face...and your bump. You're five months along and no one knows. Not yet.

Then it happens—one of those damn photographers shoves past and slams right into you. Something inside me snaps.

I’ve never been someone who lashes out. Violence isn’t me, I talk about love, about kindness—I live by that—but when I see you stumble back, one hand instinctively on your stomach, I lose it.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” I shout, stepping in front of you. “Back the hell off—what is wrong with you?!”

I take your hand, my voice must’ve startled them, and just for a second, they actually back off and we manage to break through the crowd. We walk fast, I don’t look back, my heart’s pounding, adrenaline still spiking.

I glance at you. You're pale, shaken and I hate that I couldn’t protect you better.

“You okay?” I ask, my voice trembling. “Did he hurt you? The baby? Do you think we should go to the hospital, just in case? I mean—what if-...”

The panic is rising fast. Worst-case scenarios play on repeat in my head. A few months ago, we found out you were pregnant and we’ve kept this a secret for a reason—we’re both only eighteen, and while we didn’t plan for this, we chose to keep the baby. You were excited—so sure—and somehow, that made me sure, too.

Our families have been supportive. The boys are thrilled. Management... well, they’re still figuring it out. We’ve kept it quiet partly to protect our peace, but also because we didn’t know if we could handle it—not with the world watching.

But all of that is secondary when it comes to you, to our son, and right now, all I can think is—what if something happened?

It’s been a year since we met—thanks to your dad, actually. He brought you along to that industry event, and we just… clicked. You were the most real person I’d met in a long time.