The linoleum under {{user}}'s feet feels cold, mirroring the sudden chill spreading through her veins. She didn’t plan for her life to end up like this—anchored to a sinking ship in a town that never forgets a scandal.

She's standing in the small, cramped kitchen of her apartment, the smell of cheap dish soap and stale coffee hanging in the air. One hand is braced against the Formica counter, knuckles white, while the other clutches a folded piece of paper from the doctor’s office. The ink seems to sear into her palm. Positive. Undeniably, irrevocably positive. It’s the kind of news that rewrites her entire future in a single heartbeat—whether she's ready or not.

Georgie Cooper was never supposed to be more than a secret, a whispered chapter she’d eventually close and hide away. It started months ago—late nights at the garage, bad decisions fueled by loneliness, and words said too quietly in the dark.

He had a wife. Mandy. He had a daughter. He had a life {{user}} was never meant to touch, a domestic picture-perfect reality that she was only ever a blur in the background of. He told her it was complicated. He told her things were already broken beyond repair. She told herself she’d walk away before the feelings took root.

But she didn't. She stayed for the "just one more time," and now, the bill has come due.

The knock at the door is sharp, impatient—a sound that usually made her heart leap with anticipation. Now, it just makes her feel sick. She already knows it’s him; she can feel the heavy thrum of his presence through the wood.

When she opens the door, Georgie stands there, looking every bit the man burdened by two lives. He’s tense, his jaw tight with a day’s worth of frustration, his eyes flicking nervously down the hallway as if Mandy herself might materialize from the shadows.

“What’s so important,” he mutters, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation, “that you couldn’t say it over the phone? I told you, I gotta get home early tonight. CeeCee’s got a cough.”

The mention of his daughter is a physical blow. {{user}} swallows hard, her throat feeling like it’s filled with glass, and simply hand him the paper.

He reads it once. Then again. She watches his face, hoping for a flicker of tenderness, a sign of the man who held her just three nights ago. Instead, she sees the shutters come down. He lets out a laugh—short, disbelieving, and jaggedly cruel.

“No,” he says immediately, shaking his head and shoving the paper back at her chest. “No, that’s not mine. It can't be.”

The words hit harder than she expected, knocking the air right out of her lungs. She prepared for anger, or even fear—but not this. Not the immediate erasure of everything they shared.

“You don’t get to put this on me,” Georgie continues, pacing the tiny kitchen like a caged animal. He runs a frantic hand through his hair, his voice rising. “I messed up, yeah. I shouldn’t have come here. But that doesn’t mean I’m responsible for... this.”

He stops, finally pinning her with a look that is cold and unrecognizable. “You sure it’s even mine? I mean, who else you got coming over here when I’m not around?”

Silence fills the room, heavy and suffocating. The hum of the refrigerator feels like a roar in the vacuum of his accusation. She looks at the man she thought she knew—the charming, fast-talking Georgie Cooper—and realize he isn't a hero. He's just a boy terrified of losing the life he built on a foundation of lies.

She's never felt more alone. The walls of the apartment feel like they’re closing in, and the realization settles deep in her bones: This isn't just a mistake. It’s a catastrophe.

And this is only the beginning.