The Realization
772 Words
Nicholas’s POV
I had the company driver take Harper home, despite her protests, and I spent the rest of the day replaying the scene in my head.
Something wasn’t right. Harper wasn’t the type to complain, but the way she’d looked—pale, shaky, exhausted—haunted me.
I couldn’t focus on work, couldn’t shake the image of her slumped over that trash can.
And that’s when it hit me.
This wasn’t just about the Sutton deal or my reputation as a CEO. This was about her—Harper.
I cared about her. More than I wanted to admit.
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I shouldn’t have been there.
Harper needed rest, and I’d already sent her home in the company car. But the image of her pale, trembling in the meeting room, wouldn’t leave my mind. I couldn’t shake the nagging worry that something was seriously wrong.
So here I was, standing outside her apartment door with a bag of soup and some fresh bread from a nearby deli. It was a ridiculous gesture, one that didn’t feel like me at all, but I didn’t care.
I knocked twice, waiting for her to answer.
After a moment, the door swung open, and Harper stood there, wearing a loose sweater and leggings, her face still pale but slightly less drawn.
“Nicholas?” she asked, her voice thick with surprise.
“I came to check on you,” I said simply, holding up the bag. “You didn’t look well earlier.”
She blinked, clearly unsure how to respond. “I—uh, you didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” I said, stepping inside before she could argue. “But I did.”
Her apartment was small but cozy, filled with soft lighting and mismatched furniture that somehow suited her perfectly. I set the bag down on the kitchen counter, turning to face her.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, keeping my tone even.
“Better,” she said, though her voice wavered slightly. “I think I just needed rest.”
I nodded, but my eyes were drawn to the small table near the couch. Something there caught my attention.
A white plastic stick.
I froze.
It wasn’t just any stick. It was a pregnancy test.
And it said positive.
For a moment, the world stopped. The air felt too thick, my chest too tight. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the test, the weight of what it meant crashing over me like a tidal wave.
“Harper,” I said slowly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Is this…?”
Her eyes followed my gaze, and when she saw what I was looking at, her face drained of color.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, rushing to grab the test and shove it into a drawer. “I—uh, I didn’t mean for you to see that.”
“Harper,” I said again, my voice firmer now. “Is it true?”
She hesitated, her hands trembling as she turned to face me. “I… I just found out,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.
“Is it—?” I couldn’t finish the question, the words catching in my throat.
She met my gaze, her eyes wide and filled with fear and defiance. “Yes,” she said quietly. “It’s yours.”
The room spun. For the first time in years, I didn’t know what to say, what to think. A thousand emotions collided inside me—shock, fear, confusion, and something else I couldn’t quite name.
“How long have you known?” I asked, my voice tighter than I intended.
“Not long,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “I’ve been feeling off for a few days, and I just… I didn’t expect this.”
“Neither did I,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair.
We stood there in silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of us.
“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly.
For the first time, I saw her truly vulnerable, stripped of the fire and defiance she always carried. And in that moment, something inside me shifted.
“We’ll figure it out,” I said firmly, stepping closer. “Together.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head. “Nicholas, this changes everything. You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do,” I interrupted, my voice resolute. “This isn’t just about you anymore. Or me. We’re in this together, Harper.”
- Writer
