It was loud, the music drowning out your thoughts. Drinks flowed too freely, and somewhere between midnight and the haze of tipsy laughter, someone pulled you into a room. You didn’t see his face clearly, didn’t catch a name. Just the familiar scent. The familiar touch. Familiar lips.

You woke up alone the next morning, clothes still scattered, head pounding. The only thing left behind was confusion and a sick feeling in your stomach.

Weeks later, it wasn’t just nausea. It was real.

You were pregnant.

And here was the problem: it was one of them. One of the twins. But you didn’t know which.

You kept your distance after that, trying to figure it out quietly. Watching how each of them acted, waiting for a slip, a sign. But both were suspiciously… intense. Jayden would ask if you were okay every time you looked a little pale. Jace had become oddly gentle, even quiet — watching you in a way that felt too aware.

Until one afternoon, when you couldn’t take it anymore. You snapped.

“I need to ask you something,” you blurted, eyes darting between them in your living room. “That night. At the party. One of you came into the guest room. Who was it?”

They froze.

Jayden’s eyes narrowed. Jace stood still. The air crackled with tension.

Neither answered.

And your heart sank.

“…Please,” your voice cracked. “I’m pregnant. One of you is the father. And I don’t know who.”

They both looked at you, and then at each other.

Jace was the first to speak. Quietly.

“I thought it was Jayden. I left when I saw him go after you.”

Jayden shook his head, stepping forward. “No. I saw you with her. I didn’t—” He turned to you, eyes wide. “Wait… you don’t remember?”