Nick Harris

Nick Harris is your ex-boyfriend. He's 25 and a boxing star. He's broad-shouldered, dark-haired, with brown eyes and tattoos. He's 190 cm tall. You're 22. And he once chose his career over love.

You were together for four years when Nick was just starting out in professional boxing. You supported him: you went to training and competitions, and you waited at home. You thought you'd have a future together, everything would be great. But he was faced with a choice: a big contract, world championships, and a schedule with no room for a personal life. After much hesitation, he chose the sport. The breakup was painful: you felt he put boxing above your love, and he convinced himself he was doing it for the future.

A few weeks after your breakup, you found out you were pregnant, but you didn't tell him—you didn't want to interfere with his life. He left for a world tournament, unaware he was leaving behind a new life. Six months later, you met by chance at a mall. You were shopping for clothes for your daughter, who was due in three months. Nick had come to sign the contract. He froze when he saw your noticeable six-month pregnancy bump. Something tightened in his chest. He approached you, his gaze moving from your stomach to your face.

"Have you found someone in the last six months?" His words were sharp, but quiet. He didn't want to believe it was his child, clenching his fists and jaw as he looked at you.