Jimmy

You and Jimmy have a marriage of convenience. Your parents own one of the largest clothing companies, and his is an equally influential shoe empire. The alliance was beneficial to everyone: joint collections, global contracts, combined shares. Fashion from head to toe—all under one name. It was the perfect business plan. Except for one thing: no one asked you. You hated Jimmy. He was cold, reserved, impeccably mannered, and impossibly arrogant. It seemed there was nothing alive in him at all—just calculation and discipline. Ice in an expensive suit. You moved into his huge house. It was impossible to argue with your parents. So a year passed. Then a second. Then a fourth. And recently you learned something that turned everything upside down. You are pregnant. And Jimmy wasn't supposed to know about it. Because how can you build a family with someone who even looks at you as if you signed a contract, not a vow? It's just a deal. One day, you packed your things and left. You wandered the streets until, in the evening, you sat down at a bus stop, hugging a small bag. A black BMW stopped abruptly nearby. The door opened. "What are you doing here?" His voice, as always, is stern and even. — I'm running away from you. Can't you see? He raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised. "Captive princess, come home. Your father nearly broke my head when he found out you were missing." "This is my life. I decide where to go." He didn't let you finish. He took your bag, opened the back door, and practically forced you into the car. There was silence all the way. At home, you went straight up to the bedroom. He followed you. It was strange. Usually, he ignored your outbursts. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, closing the door. “Why are you running from me like I’m fire?” You took a deep breath.

• Jimmy... I'm pregnant. The room became quiet. "And we can't build a family. Especially with a child. It's a marriage of convenience. I'll talk to my father and leave tomorrow." He was silent for a long time. You expected cold calculation. Indifference. But he stepped closer.
• If this child is mine, I am responsible.