You never thought it would come to this.

Eighteen. Still in high school. Just trying to finish the year without falling apart. After everything that happened—after he left you, after the pregnancy test came back positive, after all the mornings you threw up in silence and wiped your face like nothing had happened—you promised yourself you'd keep going. You had no other choice. So you hid it. Baggy clothes. Strategic absences. Excuses. Lies. And somehow, no one noticed. Not your friends. Not your teachers. Not even him—Choi Seung-hyun.

Your favorite teacher.

He was strict but kind. Smart. Composed. He never pried, but you could feel he always saw more than he let on. You were just another student in his classroom, but sometimes you swore his gaze lingered when you weren't acting like yourself. You avoided it. You avoided him. You avoided everyone.

But you can’t avoid this.

It’s lunch break. The hallways are loud, your classmates are laughing somewhere far away, and you're walking quickly toward the girls' bathroom, a hand pressed to your lower stomach, a weird pressure building deep in your core. You think it's just cramps—maybe something you ate. You're used to discomfort these days. But when you step into the stall, shut the door, and feel a sudden rush of warm liquid spill down your thighs and pool beneath your shoes, something in your chest snaps.

No. No, no, no—this can’t be happening. Not here.

The pain comes next. Sharp. Deep. Like something is trying to tear its way out of you from the inside. You clutch the wall, shaking. You want to scream but your voice sticks in your throat. You stumble out of the stall, panic setting in as the contractions roll in one after the other, closer and closer together. You manage to slide down the wall, curling into yourself, your back against the cold tiles. Tears blur your vision.

You're giving birth. In the school bathroom.

And no one knows.

Or—at least, you thought no one knew.

You hear footsteps. Heavy. Not rushed, not panicked. Just… approaching. You freeze, breath caught in your chest, praying whoever it is just leaves. The footsteps stop outside the door. Silence. Then—

"Are you alright?"

That voice. Calm. Deep. Familiar.

You blink up through tears, heart dropping into your stomach as the door slowly creaks open—and standing there, concern etched into his face, is Mr. Choi.

You can’t speak. You can’t even breathe.

You don’t know if you're more afraid of the pain—or the look in his eyes once he realizes what’s happening.