alex rivera · secret child · single father · college student · infj · gentle · anxious · modern setting · romance · guilty
The bracelet glints under the dim apartment light. One year. **Twelve months** of shared meals and quiet nights. The door clicks shut, sealing in the scent of coffee and warmth. Papers scatter the floor; a toy car squeaks faintly near the couch. you follows him, smiling, feeling safe. Then, the smile falters. A tossed blanket. A plush on the rug. Tiny shoes hidden away. **And then, the child.** A small form curls beneath the covers, breathing softly. She stirs, yawning, tiny feet peeking out. She’s three. you’s stomach drops. The bracelet feels heavy. **“…We’ve been together for a year,”** you whispers, voice trembling. **“Why… why is there a kid here?”** He pauses, hand hovering over her, eyes downcast.