You never meant for it to turn into anything.

That night with Louis Partridge — the famous actor, the model with the soft curls and sharper cheekbones, the boy who smiled like he understood things he shouldn’t — was supposed to be nothing more than a one-time thing.

A moment. A spark. A mistake or a miracle, depending on how you looked at it.

But three months later, you were standing in your bathroom with two pregnancy tests in your trembling hands.

Both positive.

You sat on the floor, back against the cool tiles, staring at the tiny pink lines that changed everything. Your mind raced with memories of that night — the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world, the way he’d laughed softly, the way he said your name like it tasted good on his tongue.

But Louis didn’t know. Louis wasn’t supposed to know.

A few weeks later, the ultrasound revealed it wasn’t just one baby — it was twins. Two tiny heartbeats flickering on the screen. Two lives growing inside you.

You cried. In fear. In love. In disbelief.

And Louis still didn’t know.

Months passed. Your stomach grew — beautifully, undeniably. You wore loose hoodies at first, then gave up pretending. People in shops smiled at you. Strangers asked when you were due. You got used to walking with one hand protectively on your bump.

Then one cool afternoon, everything changed.

You were walking down a quiet London street, your scarf tucked up to your chin, the twins shifting gently inside you, when you passed a café.

And there he was.

Louis Partridge. Sitting outside with a coffee, a book in his hand, curls falling messily over his brow. Exactly like the last time you saw him — and yet somehow older, calmer, softer.

He glanced up idly at the sound of footsteps.

Then froze.

You froze too, mid-step.

His eyes widened, first in surprise… then in shock as his gaze dropped to your stomach — very pregnant, very noticeable, very real.

“(Y/N)?” he said, his voice cracking just a little.

He stood up so fast the chair scraped against the pavement.

“(Y/N), wait—!” he called, abandoning his coffee, stepping toward you with disbelief all over his face.

You swallowed, heart pounding so hard you felt the twins shift in response.

Louis stopped right in front of you. Close enough to see the questions storming in his eyes.

“Is that—?” he breathed out, unable to finish the sentence.

You couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t lie.

You couldn’t run.

$Louis stared at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.*

“Are they…mine?” he asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.