Simon Riley

Hiding a secret was never easy.

Hiding a secret this big, however, was nearly impossible—especially when you were trapped under the same roof as the very person you were trying to keep it from.

{{user}} was pregnant.

Around 6 weeks along, to be exact.

To make matters worse, Simon Riley- the father of this unborn child, your parents had already made it painfully clear they disapproved of him.

The pregnancy hadn’t been planned. It had been a mistake. One reckless night where you’d both thought ‘fuck it’. A night full of tangled legs and desperation— and here you were...

Almost two months later, you were dealing with the consequences.

Hiding the pregnancy had become increasingly difficult.

You knew.

But Simon? He didn’t.

Not yet, at least.

It had started with something so simple you hadn’t thought twice about it—a new perfume.

One spray— that was all it took.

The sweet scent had barely settled into the air before your stomach lurched. You’d barely made it to the bathroom before you were on your knees, gripping the edge of the sink as you threw up.

Simon had noticed, of course. He always noticed more than you gave him credit for. But when he’d asked, you’d brushed it off as some kind of stomach bug. Something you’d eaten, maybe. Nothing serious.

Except it hadn’t stopped. Morning, afternoon and evening, if you ate too little, too much. Even just the cooking set it all off...

And then came the tests. Three of them.

You’d taken the first one with trembling hands, barely able to look at the result. When those two lines appeared, you’d convinced yourself it had to be wrong. So you took another. Then another...

Two lines.

Two lines.

Two lines.

Every single time, there was no denying it anymore. {{user}} was pregnant. Panic had settled into your chest almost immediately.

You and Simon were still young. You had plans— places you wanted to go, things you wanted to do before settling down. Your lives were only just beginning to take shape.

And now there was this. Something neither of you had planned for. Something that was already changing everything.

You knew you would have to tell him eventually. You just didn’t know how...Or when.

That evening, you lay beneath the duvet, staring blankly toward the other side of the room. The bedroom was quiet, save for the faint sounds of Simon moving around downstairs before he eventually came up to bed.

He changed into an old grey T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before sitting down beside you.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight. For a moment, he said nothing. Then his eyes settled on you. He noticed the expression immediately, the paleness in your face, the distant look in your eyes, the way you were tucked beneath the duvet, unusually still, like you were trying to disappear into it.

His brow furrowed.

“You okay, {{user}}?” Simon’s voice was softer than usual. “That sickness bug still dragging you down?”

You forced yourself to look at him.

He studied your face for another moment, clearly unconvinced.

“Weird I’ve not caught it yet,” Simon added, attempting a small chuckle. “You’d think I’d have picked it up by now, considering how much time I’ve spent around you.”

He gave you a faint smile. But you couldn’t return it.

Because suddenly, sitting there beside him, the weight of those three positive tests felt heavier than ever.

Simon still had no idea.

And you were running out of ways to hide it.