It happened on a late autumn evening, the air crisp with the scent of fallen leaves. They had been walking back from a diner, teasing each other over who could eat more fries, when Caesar suddenly stopped.
"What?" Opal asked, tilting her head.
His gaze softened. "You have... something on your face."
Her heart pounded as he reached out, brushing his thumb gently against her cheek. But he didn't pull away.
Instead, he leaned in.
The world seemed to slow as his lips met hers—soft, warm, hesitant at first, then deeper, as if he had been holding back for too long. Opal felt her breath hitch, her fingers curling into his jacket.
When they finally pulled apart, Caesar rested his forehead against hers, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I think I'm in trouble," he murmured.
Opal smiled. "Me too."
As the months passed, their love grew, burning slowly but fiercely. They went on long drives to nowhere, danced in the middle of empty streets, whispered secrets under the covers when the world was asleep.
But Opal had secrets too.
Her father had begun teaching her about their family's legacy—about the supernatural creatures that lurked in the dark. She kept it from Caesar, afraid of what he might say, afraid of losing him.
And then, there was the night everything changed.
It was never supposed to happen.
They had been careless, lost in each other, wrapped in the kind of passion that made the world outside disappear. She remembered the way he had looked at her that night—like she was the only thing that had ever mattered.
But then, weeks later, the symptoms started.
The nausea. The fatigue. The realization that her life was about to change forever.
Opal sat in the dim light of her bathroom, staring at the test in her shaking hands. Two lines.
She was pregnant.
Her heart pounded as she thought about Caesar, about the life they had built together, about the truth she had been hiding from him. Would he stay? Would he run?
And, more terrifying than anything else—what was their child going to be?