Twenty-five years old, freshly single after three years of the most intense not-relationship of my life, and now pregnant by a cheating man.
One rainy Thursday evening, I arrived at his penthouse with takeout, hoping for a quiet night like the old days.
Damien opened the door looking exhausted but wired.
"Victoria just left," he said automatically.
The words landed heavily. "Busy day?"
"Productive." He ran a hand through his hair. "She sees things I don't sometimes. Challenges me."
We ate in near silence. Afterwards, when he pulled me into my arms and pecked me, it was fierce and consuming.
When it was over, we lay tangled in the sheets. Damien stared at the ceiling, one arm behind his head.
"Sophia... we need to talk."
My stomach tightened. I sat up, pulling the sheet around my chest. "About what?"
"This. Us. The arrangement. I think we should end it," he said quietly.
"Because of Victoria?" My voice came out smaller than I wanted.
————————
Three years.
That was how long Sophia Vale had been caught in Damien Voss's orbit-two years and ten months of late-night texts, stolen hours in his penthouse, and a connection that had started as pure physical release but had quietly become the axis her world turned on.
The rules had always been clear. Friends with benefits. No strings. No future. No jealousy.
But rules were easier to write than to live by when the heart refused to listen.
---
The shift with Victoria Lang had been gradual at first, then undeniable.
Victoria was thirty-two, sharp as a blade, and carried herself with the kind of effortless confidence that came from old money and newer ambition. She had entered Damien's professional life like a storm-smart, challenging, and beautiful in that polished, untouchable way. Sophia noticed the change in small things.
Damien started mentioning her name casually during their nights together.
"Victoria had an interesting take on the European markets today."
"Victoria pushed me on the valuation. She's not afraid to call me out."
At first, Sophia brushed it off. Business was business. But the late meetings grew longer. The canceled plans became routine. And the way Damien spoke about Victoria carried a spark of admiration that used to be reserved only for her.
One night, after a particularly intense round of banging where he had taken her against the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, Damien lay beside her, fingers tracing lazy circles on her bare hip. His phone buzzed on the nightstand. He reached for it immediately.
A small smile touched his lips as he read the message.
"Victoria?" Sophia asked, trying to keep her voice light.
"Yeah. She just sent over the revised projections. This could be massive for the firm."
Sophia turned on her side, studying his profile. At thirty-nine, Damien was in his prime-strong jaw, dark hair with the faintest threads of silver at the temples, and the kind of presence that commanded rooms. Twelve years older than her, he had always felt like safety and danger wrapped in one expensive suit.
"Do you like her?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.
Damien set the phone down and looked at her. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes-conflict, maybe guilt. "She's a good business partner. Brilliant, actually."
"That's not what I asked."
He sighed and pulled her closer, pressing a peck to her forehead. "Soph... don't do this. We have rules for a reason."
She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. "Right. Rules."
But the cracks were already widening.
---
Over the next few weeks, the distance grew. Damien became more distracted, more restless. Their encounters felt urgent, almost desperate, like he was trying to hold onto something he knew was slipping away. He would text her at odd hours, show up at her apartment, and lose himself in her body as if trying to silence whatever was happening in his head.
Yet he never stayed the full night anymore.
One rainy Thursday evening, Sophia arrived at his penthouse with takeout, hoping for a quiet night like the old days. Damien opened the door looking exhausted but wired.
"Victoria just left," he said automatically.
The words landed heavily. Sophia forced a smile and set the bags on the kitchen island. "Busy day?"
"Productive." He ran a hand through his hair. "She sees things I don't sometimes. Challenges me."
They ate in near silence. Afterwards, when he pulled her into his arms and pecked her, it was fierce and consuming. He took her to his bed and did love to her with a intensity that bordered on regret-slow, deep, almost reverent. Sophia clung to him, memorizing every touch, every groan, every whispered "Soph" against her skin.
When it was over, they lay tangled in the sheets. Damien stared at the ceiling, one arm behind his head.
"Sophia... we need to talk."
Her stomach tightened. She sat up, pulling the sheet around her chest. "About what?"
He hesitated, jaw clenched. "This. Us. The arrangement."
The air felt thinner.
"I think we should end it," he said quietly. "The FWB thing. It's run its course."
Sophia felt the words like a physical blow. She stared at him, searching for any sign that this was a joke or a momentary doubt. There was none.
"Because of Victoria?" Her voice came out smaller than she wanted.
Damien sat up too, the sheet pooling at his waist. "It's not just her. It's everything. I'm thirty-seven . I'm at a point in my career where things are accelerating. You're twenty-five, building your own life. This was never supposed to be permanent."
She laughed bitterly, tears stinging her eyes. "It wasn't supposed to feel like this either."
He reached for her hand, but she pulled away. "I care about you, Soph. I do. These three years... they meant something. But I can't keep doing this half-thing. It's not fair to either of us."
"Not fair," she repeated. The numbness was setting in. "So you're ending it. Just like that."
Damien looked pained. "I'm sorry."
Sophia dressed in silence, her hands shaking as she buttoned her blouse. At the door, she paused and looked back at him one last time-the man who had been her secret addiction, her comfort, her weakness.
"Take care, Damien."
She walked out without waiting for his reply. The elevator ride down blurred behind unshed tears. Outside, the rain had picked up, soaking her as she stood on the sidewalk trying to breathe.
Three years gone in one conversation.
---
The next few days passed in a haze.
Sophia threw herself into work, editing manuscripts late into the night, ignoring the persistent ache in her chest. She deleted their old texts. Removed his spare key from her bag. Tried to convince herself it was for the best.
But her body had other plans.
The nausea started subtly-mornings where coffee made her stomach turn. Fatigue that no amount of sleep could touch. Mood swings that left her crying over commercials. At first she blamed stress, the breakup, the endless rain.
On the eighth day after the breakup, she stood in the pharmacy aisle staring at pregnancy tests. It felt ridiculous. They had been careful... mostly. Her IUD was still in place. But something in her gut whispered otherwise.
She bought two tests and went home.
In the quiet of her small bathroom, Sophia stared at the plastic stick on the counter, heart pounding as the minutes ticked by. When the timer went off, she forced herself to look.
Two pink lines.
Clear. Undeniable.
Pregnant.
She slid down the wall, knees drawn to her chest, and let the tears fall freely. The weight of everything crashed over her at once-Damien's distant eyes, his decision to end things, the growing infatuation with Victoria, and now this.
A baby.
His baby.
Alone.
---
Sophia stared at the two pink lines until her vision blurred. Twenty-five years old, freshly single after three years of the most intense not-relationship of her life, and now pregnant by a man who had just ended things because his life was "accelerating" in another woman's direction.
She couldn't tell him over the phone. Not something this big. Not when the conversation would decide the rest of both their lives.
---
For the first three days after finding out, Sophia tried to be reasonable.
She sent her first message the same evening she took the test.
Sophia: Damien, I really need to see you. Can we meet for coffee tomorrow? It's important. Not something for text or call.
No reply.
The next morning she tried again.
Sophia: Please. Just thirty minutes. Name the time and place.
Still nothing. The message sat on "delivered" but unread.
By day four she was calling. The first call rang four times before going to voicemail. She left a short message, voice steadier than she felt.
"Damien, it's Sophia. I'm not calling to beg or fight about us ending things. I just need to meet you face to face. One coffee. Please call me back."
He didn't.
She tried twice more that day-once in the afternoon, once at night. Both calls went straight to voicemail. The second time she didn't leave a message. She simply sat on her couch in the dark, phone in her lap, fighting the nausea that had nothing to do with morning sickness and everything to do with the growing fear that he was already erasing her.
---
Damien Voss, thirty-seven, sat in the private dining room of an upscale rooftop restaurant with Victoria Lang across from him. Candlelight softened the sharp lines of her face, and she looked stunning in a deep emerald dress that complemented her blonde hair perfectly.
She was saying something about the upcoming merger-brilliant, strategic points as always. He nodded, smiled at the right moments, and tried to focus on the woman he had convinced himself was the future.
Victoria reached across the table and brushed her fingers over the back of his hand. "You've been quiet tonight. Everything alright with the firm?"
"Fine," he said automatically. "Just a lot on my mind."
What he didn't say was that something was missing.
The spark he had expected with Victoria-the effortless connection, the intellectual match that should have made everything click-was there on paper but felt hollow in practice. Their conversations were stimulating. Their chemistry was pleasant. But when he pecked her goodnight, it didn't burn. When she laughed at his jokes, the sound didn't settle warm in his chest the way Sophia's quiet, sarcastic chuckles used to.
Sophia.
He had been ignoring her messages for four days now. Every time her name appeared on his screen, guilt twisted sharply in his gut. He told himself it was better this way-clean break, no dragging things out. She would move on. He would move on. Victoria represented stability and ambition. Sophia had always been chaos wrapped in warmth, the one person who could make him forget the weight of his empire for a few hours.
But he couldn't shake the memory of her face the night he ended it. The way her voice had gone small when she asked if it was because of Victoria.
He downed the rest of his whiskey and forced a smile at the woman across from him.
"You're right," he told Victoria. "Let's talk expansion plans. I want your vision on the London office."
She lit up, launching into detailed analysis. Damien listened, nodded, and tried desperately to feel the excitement he knew he should feel.
---
By the end of the first week, Sophia was desperate.
She had thrown up twice that morning. Her editor had noticed she looked pale during their video call and asked if she was okay. She lied and said it was just stress.
She tried one more time.
**Sophia:** Damien, I'm not trying to force my way back into your life. This is genuinely important. Please give me 20 minutes. Any cafe near your office. Tomorrow at 10? I'll wait.
She stared at the screen for twenty minutes. The two blue ticks appeared. He had read it.
No response.
Anger and hurt twisted together until she couldn't tell them apart. She typed again, fingers shaking.
**Sophia:** If you keep ignoring me, I'll have no choice but to show up at your office. I don't want to do that, but you're leaving me no option.
This time the reply came-short, cold, and final.
**Damien:** Sophia, we ended things. I told you I'd provide financial support. Send me the details through email if it's money you need. I'm in back-to-back meetings this week. I don't have time for coffee.
Sophia read the message three times, feeling something inside her shatter cleanly. The man who had once carried her to bed and whispered that she smelled like home was now treating her like an inconvenience to be handled via email.
She didn't cry this time. She simply placed her phone face down on the table, rested a hand over her still-flat stomach, and whispered, "It's okay, little one. We'll figure this out without him if we have to."
But even as she said it, fresh tears slipped down her cheeks.
---
Damien stared at the sent message, jaw tight.
He was in his penthouse office, the city glittering below. Victoria had left an hour ago after they reviewed contracts together. She had pecked him before leaving-soft, promising-and he had pecked her back, telling himself this was what he wanted.
Yet the second Sophia's name had appeared again, all he could feel was a heavy, suffocating guilt mixed with something dangerously close to longing.
He missed her.
Not just the banging-though God, he missed that too-but the way she would curl up against him after, stealing his warmth. The way she challenged him without fear. The way she made the massive penthouse feel less empty.
Victoria was perfect on paper. Sophia had been perfect in the quiet moments that actually mattered.
"wtf," he muttered, pouring another drink.
He almost typed back. Almost told her to name the place and he'd be there. But then Victoria's text came through.
Victoria: Tonight was wonderful. Can't stop thinking about our plans for next quarter... and beyond :wink:
He locked his phone without replying to Sophia.
Some doors, he told himself, were better left closed.
---
Sophia spent the next two days in a fog of nausea and quiet determination.
She went to her first prenatal appointment alone. The doctor confirmed she was roughly six weeks along. The baby was healthy so far. When the nurse asked about the father, Sophia simply said, "He's not in the picture right now."
She left the clinic with a folder of information, prenatal vitamins, and a quiet resolve hardening in her chest.
That evening she tried one last time.
Sophia : We need to talk and it's an emergency, I am pregnant, I always wanted to tell you this face to face but you left me no option rather than through this .....
But unknown to Sohpia Damien had already blocked her .
