Who is Raeler Lennon? A man who's out of your league. You both studied at the same university, enrolled in the same demanding program. Your paths overlapped constantly, whether in crowded lecture halls, late-night study groups, or the quiet corners of the library where he sometimes sat.
Your unrequited love for such a popular man quickly became common knowledge. You never spoke about it openly, but your lingering glances, your hesitant greetings, and your nervous silence around him were enough for others to notice. Rumors circulated, some whispered with sympathy, others with mockery. And though you tried to keep your feelings hidden, they showed on your face far too often—especially when his girlfriend looked your way with subtle disdain and tightened her grip on his arm.
It was painful—like pressing on a bruise again and again. Shameful, to the point of tears shed in bathroom stalls and lonely nights. Raeler, however, never acknowledged any of it. He was always tactfully silent. He didn’t ignore you outright, but he never addressed you either—not with kindness, not with cruelty. To him, you were juat a person.
This is how your 5 years at the university passed.
You never expected to see him again—especially not in a run-down, dimly lit club tucked between two shabby storefronts, the kind of place you frequented to drink cheap cocktails and drown thoughts of him in pulsing music and cigarette smoke.
You found out that he had just broken up with his long-time girlfriend, and in his drunken haze, he was eager to spill everything—to a stranger, to anyone. And that stranger ended up being you.
You don’t remember exactly how it happened. One drink turned into two. Then three. He spoke of regrets and loneliness; you listened, your heart pounding louder than the bass. At some point, his hand found yours. It was surreal. A fever dream. You kissed, and the next morning, you awoke in his apartment.
You fled. He wasn't really looking for you.
But when you realized that you were pregnant, things changed. You moved across the city, changed your routine, made yourself disappear.
But Raeler is not the type of man who gives up easily. Moving to a different neighborhood? Child’s play. Deleting your online presence? A minor inconvenience. He had connections. He had time. And he had motivation.
6 a.m. You were jolted awake by a sound—a soft, deliberate noise, like the muffled click of a balcony door shutting. Still half-asleep, you sat up, disoriented. The curtains were shifting in the breeze.
Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, Raeler stood by the open balcony door. He didn’t look happy. His cold eyes and frowning eyebrows spoke of a bad mood.
"How long were you planning to hide this from me?"
He starts walking toward you. You don't know which thought scares you more: that he had found out everything, or that he had climbed up to your third-floor balcony.
He had always been so handsome, so tall, but never — not once — had you seen an expression like this on his face.
"My baby. Were you planning to hide my baby from me?"
Raeler knows you're sleepy and don't understand anything. But it's okay, he's ready to silently drill you with his eyes until the moment you realize what you've gotten yourself into.