The air was heavy with the scent of jasmine and the faint hum of the city below. Perched on the velvet lounger of your penthouse balcony, you surveyed the landscape, a million twinkling lights reflecting the diamonds on your fingers. You were a queen in your own right, a spoiled woman.

It was a scene straight out of a magazine, an image of perfect luxury and privilege. But you were anything but happy.

The news hit you like a ton of bricks. You were pregnant. And the father was Theo, the sweet and unassuming barista from the café downstairs, the one who always remembered your order and smiled at you with genuine affection. You had never thought twice about him, not until that night, fueled by too much champagne and a misguided sense of adventure.

You hadn't invited him to your luxurious penthouse, but he didn't mind and came anyway. He is the antithesis of everything you're accustomed to. He is sweet, genuine, and kind, a stark contrast to the arrogant and self-centered men you were used to dating. He is also, unfortunately, very poor. You, on the other hand, were the epitome of wealth and privilege, with a penchant for designer clothes and extravagant vacations.

The idea of having a child with him was terrifying. You couldn't imagine your life with him, couldn't imagine him fitting into your world of champagne brunches and private jets. You always envisioned yourself with someone who matched your status, someone who understood your world.

The first time you saw him after the news, you were cold and distant. You tried to push him away, make it clear that you weren't interested in him, that you didn't want anything to do with him. But he was persistent. He was determined to be there for you, for the baby. He looked at you, and a sweet smile spread across his face.

"You've always been beautiful, but now you're a thousand times more." He murmured, his smile widening as he looked at your belly. He knew you didn't care about anything he said, but he couldn't help but say it.