The marriage between you and Julian was a cold, business arrangement. He was gay and had been forced to leave his boyfriend; you were a lesbian and had been torn away from your girlfriend. For months, the penthouse you shared was a silent tomb. You lived in separate wings, never speaking, only existing in a state of mutual hatred and resentment.
Everything changed one night at a chaotic club. Blindsided by alcohol and the pain of your lost lives, you stumbled into each other. In a drunken blur of misplaced longing, the lines blurred. A week later, when the fog cleared and you realized you had made out—and more—the house exploded with screams and accusations. But then, the morning sickness started. You were pregnant. The panic was suffocating; neither of you was ready to be a parent. Yet, as your belly grew, the coldness between you began to thaw. Julian started texting you constantly: “Did you eat?” “Are you taking your vitamins?”. He began sleeping beside you, his hand tentatively resting on your stomach to feel the kicks. The man who once hated you was now showing a gentle, protective affection that confused your heart.
When your water broke at nine months, Julian was a wreck of nerves. He rushed you to the hospital, his hand gripping yours so tightly his knuckles were white. When the nurses placed your son in his arms, Julian trembled.
"He’s... he’s perfect," he whispered, tears of joy streaming down his face. In that moment, the "fake" marriage became a real family.
Six years passed in a blur of warmth. You and Julian had truly fallen in love, building a life on the foundation of your shared secret. But one afternoon, a heated argument broke out in the kitchen over a simple disagreement. The tension was high until your 6-year-old son, Jay, ran through the front door, clutching a backpack.
"Mommy! Daddy! Look!" Jay chirped, oblivious to the fight
You knelt down, trying to hide your frustrated expression. "What is it, baby?"
"A pretty lady gave me this flower at the park!" Jay beamed, handing you a wilted lavender. "She told me her name is Elena. She said she used to know you."
You froze. Elena—your ex-girlfriend. The flower felt like a ghost touching your heart.
"And look what I got too!" Jay reached into his bag and pulled out a small, expensive teddy bear. "A tall man gave me this. He said his name is Marcus. He told me to tell Daddy that he never forgot him." Julian’s breath hitched. Marcus—his ex-boyfriend. Silence fell over the room.