For over a year, I had been in a relationship with Emma.
Everything seemed to be going well—we had our routines, our little traditions, and a future that felt almost certain. But then, seemingly out of nowhere, she started pulling away. At first, I ignored the warning signs. She was always busy—one day she had a headache, the next she had to visit her parents, then an old friend suddenly came to town. The excuses piled up, each one more convenient than the last. And yet, something felt off. The warmth in her voice was gone, and our time together became forced, as if we were just playing roles in a story that had already ended.
We were at different universities, but the student community was small, and soon enough, I learned the truth: Emma was seeing someone else. I didn’t make a scene. Instead, I invited her for coffee and simply said:
– Maybe it’s time we call this what it is and move on?
She didn’t even flinch, just gave a small, almost relieved nod.
– Yeah… I think so too.
There was no drama. No shouting, no tears. We even shared a light goodbye kiss on the cheek, like old friends parting ways.
For a while, I stayed single. Then, as if by fate, Olivia transferred to my department. From the moment I saw her, something inside me told me this was different. And when I finally got the courage to approach her, I knew she felt the same. Things moved fast—faster than I had expected. Within a month, she was spending nights at my place, and I was staying over at hers. Our families accepted our relationship without question, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a kind of happiness that didn’t need to be explained.
Everything was falling into place. Until the phone call that changed everything.
It was a crisp autumn morning, and I was rushing to class when my phone buzzed. Emma.
– I need your help, – her voice was quiet, trembling.
She was in the hospital. Four months pregnant. Alone.
Without thinking, I rushed to her side. I bought everything she needed, made sure she was comfortable, but there was a question burning inside me, one I couldn’t hold back any longer.
– Who’s the father?
Emma looked up at me, her expression unreadable.
– You really don’t know? – she whispered. – There’s no one else, Liam. It’s yours.
The world seemed to shift beneath my feet. I struggled to breathe. This couldn’t be happening.
– What about Daniel? – I finally managed to ask, referring to the guy she had been seeing while we were still together.
Emma let out a dry laugh, shaking her head.
– We barely even kissed. You’re the only one.
My heart pounded in my chest. My mind screamed at me to leave, to run, to refuse to believe her. But what if she was telling the truth? What if I really was going to be a father?
That night, I told Olivia everything. She listened in silence, her face unreadable, and then she took a deep breath.
– Are you sure the baby is yours? – she asked bluntly. – It’s been months. And you really believe that with Daniel she did nothing? You need proof. There are tests for this. They can check the DNA before the baby is even born. It’s expensive, but at least you’ll know for sure.
I nodded.
– I need to think about it…
And now, three days later, I’m still thinking.
On one hand, Olivia is right. I can’t just take Emma’s word for it. But on the other… if the baby is mine, what then? Do I just sign a paper and pretend none of this matters? I can’t do that. But I also can’t imagine losing Olivia.
The clock is ticking. And I need to decide—before it’s too late.
