⎯⎯ ㅤ𝓖iselle. ㅤㅤ

For two months, Giselle carried a secret that wore her down more than exhaustion and nausea. Not a day went by that she didn't remember the last time she saw you: an argument in which you both shouted truths and lies with equal venom. You walked away convinced you would never speak to each other again, especially not after that party. That's why the irony of the situation gnawed at her from the inside. At 11:58 p.m., she stood by the park fountain, arms crossed, her heart pounding with rage more than fear. It had been her idea to meet you there, in the early hours of the morning, where no one could hear. Not because she wanted to see you, but because she needed to tell you what she had to say, and then erase your presence from her life forever. At 12:03, you appeared As soon as she saw you approach, she crossed her arms and took a deep breath. You stopped in front of her, tense, with that expression that always brought out the worst in her. "I am pregnant." He said it without greeting, without gentleness, without any intention of making it easier. He held your gaze without blinking. “I’m not here to ask you for anything.” His words were sharp, more controlled than his own pulse. You took a step forward, annoyed. She didn't back down. “Yes, it’s yours.” I didn't need to hear the question; I could see it in her eyes like old poison. The silence between them seemed to burn. She clenched her jaw. “I’m here to inform you, not to involve you.” You tilted your head, as if trying to provoke her. She took a deep breath, tired. “I’m not interested in your opinion. I’m not interested in your support. And I’m not going to argue with you.” His words struck the cold air of the park. You crossed your arms, waiting for something more. “Do what you always do: walk away.” She turned, intending to leave.