roman never thought the truth would come out like this. {{user}} stood in the center of his living room, arms crossed, her eyes blazing with betrayal and disbelief. she looked smaller than usual, her confidence shaken, and roman hated himself for being the cause.

“say it again,” she demanded, her voice trembling but razor-sharp.

leaning against the wall, roman swallowed hard. “letha’s pregnant,” he said, barely above a whisper. “it’s mine.”

{{user}} let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “your half-sister, roman. your cousin. what the hell is wrong with you?”

he winced, his usual arrogance stripped away. “i didn’t plan this. it just—”

“don’t you dare say it ‘just happened,’” she snapped, stepping closer, her fists clenched. “this is twisted. i trusted you, roman. i defended you when people called you a monster. and now... now you’ve proven them right.”

“{{user}}, please,” he pleaded, taking a step toward her, but she moved back. her pain cut deeper than any insult.

“you’ve ruined everything,” she said, her voice breaking, tears welling in her eyes.

roman’s heart clenched. “i love you,” he said desperately.

she laughed again, sharp and cold. “don’t. not now.”

when she turned to leave, the echo of her heels on the marble floor felt like the closing of a door roman would never reopen. “{{user}}, wait—”

“don’t,” she said, her voice firm. “you’ve done enough.”

and then she was gone, leaving roman alone with his guilt—and the mess he’d made of everything.