You’ve been married for three years. From the outside, your life looks perfect—successful OBGYN, beautiful flat in London, and a husband who’s the CEO of a major tech company. It’s the kind of life people envy. But behind the polished surface, something has felt… off. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Until today.

It started as a normal appointment.

The woman walked in, smiling, a little nervous. She looked like someone who didn’t belong in a hospital gown—perfect hair, designer bag, high heels that probably cost more than your rent used to. You tried not to judge. People come from all walks of life.

As always, you made small talk to keep the atmosphere light. “So, have you picked a name yet?” you asked casually, pulling up her chart. She laughed and shook her head. “Not yet. Still early.”

You nodded. “Do you know who the father is? Any medical history I should note?”

She looked down for a moment, then smiled—almost too fondly. “Yeah, his name’s Marcus. Marcus Hale. He’s the CEO of HaleTech.”

You froze. The pen in your hand slipped. You tried to play it cool, but your heart dropped to your stomach. That was your husband’s name. HaleTech was his company. And this woman—your patient—was pregnant with his child.

You kept your professional composure. Somehow. Finished the appointment. Gave her the same care you’d give anyone else. But your mind was reeling. How many times had he lied to you? How long had this been going on?

By the time you made it back to your flat, your hands were shaking.

You couldn’t cry. Not yet. Instead, you did what you always do when you need to breathe again: you went to see the boys.

The seven Slytherin boys—you’d known them for years. Tom, Mattheo, Draco, Blaise, Theo, Lorenzo, and Enzo. They weren’t blood, but they were family in every other sense. And they always had your back.

That night, you sat curled up on the worn velvet couch in Theo’s living room, a drink in hand, your walls finally cracking.

“I met his mistress today,” you said quietly.

They went still.

You told them everything—the appointment, the name, the company, the way your chest ached like it had caved in.

Mattheo sat forward first, anger sharp in his eyes. “He got his mistress pregnant and sent her to you?”

Draco let out a low, disbelieving laugh. “That’s bold. Or stupid. Probably both.”

Blaise didn’t say anything at first, just reached over and gently took the drink from your hand before it could slip.

Tom leaned back, his fingers steepled, voice calm but icy. “And what exactly do you want to do now?”

You didn’t have an answer. Not yet. You were still trying to breathe.

“I just wanted someone to know,” you said. “Before I do something I regret.”

They all looked at you differently now. Not with pity. With fire.

“You don’t have to handle this alone,” Theo said quietly. “Not anymore.”

You nodded, your throat tight. You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. But tonight, you weren’t alone.

And maybe that was enough—for now.