Updated Dec 2, 2025 • ~8 min read
“You don’t have to come,” Julia said for the third time as they sat in the waiting room of her OB-GYN’s office. “It’s just a routine check-up.”
“I want to,” Knox said, and it was the truest thing he’d said in weeks.
He’d been to Julia’s apartment dozens of times. Had helped paint the nursery, assemble furniture, organize tiny clothes. But this—sitting in a medical office waiting to see the baby on an ultrasound—felt different.
More real.
More terrifying.
“Julia Adams?” A nurse appeared in the doorway.
Julia stood, then glanced back at Knox. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
The exam room was small and clinical. The ultrasound machine sat in the corner, imposing and alien. Knox had seen these in movies, but being here—actually here—made his hands shake.
“Boyfriend?” the nurse asked cheerfully, setting up the equipment.
“Yes,” Julia said at the same time Knox said, “Sort of.”
They looked at each other.
“Definitely yes,” Julia corrected. “He’s just modest.”
Dr. Tonia Farley entered, a woman in her fifties with kind eyes and the calm competence of someone who’d delivered a thousand babies. “Julia! How are we feeling?”
“Huge. Tired. Ready for this to be over.”
“You’ve got about ten more weeks. Let’s take a look and see how baby’s doing.” Dr. Farley noticed Knox. “And who’s this?”
“Knox. My boyfriend.”
“Nice to meet you, Knox. First ultrasound?”
“First everything,” Knox admitted.
“Well, you’re in for a treat.” Dr. Farley applied gel to Julia’s exposed stomach—bigger now at 30 weeks, the baby’s movements visible through her skin. “Let’s see this little one.”
She pressed the transducer to Julia’s stomach, and suddenly the monitor filled with grainy black and white images.
Knox couldn’t breathe.
There—right there on the screen—was his baby.
Not an abstract concept anymore. Not just a secret he was keeping. An actual tiny human, complete with visible features.
“There’s the head,” Dr. Farley narrated, moving the wand. “And the spine. Beautiful development. Heart rate looks perfect.”
The sound of the heartbeat filled the room—fast and strong and alive.
Knox felt tears on his face and didn’t bother wiping them away.
“Look,” Julia said softly, grabbing his hand. “That’s our baby.”
Our baby.
The words hit Knox like a physical blow. Because Julia meant it in a different way than the biological reality. She was including him in this moment, in this life, in this future.
And Knox was lying about all of it.
“Want to know the sex?” Dr. Farley asked.
“No,” Julia said immediately. “I want to be surprised.”
“Fair enough. But I can tell you that baby is measuring right on track. About three pounds now. Should be around seven or eight at birth if we make it to full term.”
“If?” Knox heard the fear in Julia’s voice.
“Just standard language. Nothing to worry about. Everything looks great.” Dr. Farley printed several images. “These are for you to take home. Show off to family.”
She handed the glossy printouts to Julia, who immediately passed one to Knox.
Knox stared at the image. His baby. His actual biological child.
“You okay?” Julia asked as they left the office.
“Yeah. Just—that was intense.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve seen them before, but having you there made it more real somehow.” Julia tucked her arm through his. “Thank you for coming.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it.”
They grabbed lunch at a café near the medical building. Knox couldn’t stop looking at the ultrasound photo, now tucked in his wallet.
“What are you thinking?” Julia asked.
That I’m the worst person alive. That I should have told you months ago. That every day I don’t tell you makes this worse.
“That it’s really happening,” Knox said. “In two and a half months, there’s going to be a baby. An actual person.”
“Terrifying, right?”
“Completely.”
Julia’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen and sighed. “My father. I should probably take this.”
She stepped outside while Knox sat with his coffee and his guilt.
His own phone buzzed. Aaron: How’d the appointment go?
Knox sent him the ultrasound photo.
Aaron: Oh man. You’re in deep.
Knox: I know.
Aaron: When are you telling her?
Knox: Soon.
Aaron: You keep saying that.
Knox: I mean it this time.
Aaron: Do you? Because from here it looks like you’re falling deeper while the clock ticks down. Brian’s investigation isn’t going to stop. Eventually he’ll find something.
Knox: The records are sealed.
Aaron: Nothing is completely sealed if you have enough money and determination. And Brian has both.
Knox knew Aaron was right. Had known for weeks. But knowing and acting were two entirely different problems.
Julia returned, her expression tight.
“Everything okay?” Knox asked.
“My father wants to have dinner. All three of us. Says it’s time to ‘clear the air.'”
“That sounds ominous.”
“Because it is.” Julia sat down heavily. “He’s up to something. I can feel it.”
Knox’s stomach dropped. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. But he’s been too quiet lately. No threats, no ultimatums, no stock manipulation. That’s not like him. He’s planning something.”
He’s investigating me, Knox thought. And he’s getting close.
“When does he want to have dinner?”
“Friday night.” Julia reached across the table for his hand. “You don’t have to come. I can tell him you’re busy.”
“I’ll come.”
“Knox—”
“I’m not hiding from your father. If he wants to talk, we’ll talk.”
Julia squeezed his hand. “Have I mentioned I love you?”
“Not in the last hour.”
“Well, I do. Even though you’re probably insane for willingly subjecting yourself to Brian Adams round two.”
They finished lunch and walked through the city. It was a beautiful November afternoon—crisp and clear, the kind of day that made Knox fall in love with this city all over again.
Julia pointed out landmarks she’d known her whole life. Places her mother had taken her before she died. Buildings her father had developed. The park where she’d learned to ride a bike.
Knox stored it all away like treasure, knowing these moments were borrowed time.
They ended up at Julia’s apartment as the sun started setting. Julia was exhausted—thirty weeks pregnant meant constant fatigue—but she invited Knox in anyway.
“I’m probably going to fall asleep on you,” she warned. “Pregnancy makes me useless after 6 PM.”
“That’s fine.”
They settled on her couch, Julia’s head on Knox’s shoulder, a documentary about art restoration playing that neither of them really watched.
Knox felt the baby kick against his side and placed his hand on Julia’s stomach.
“That’s your kid saying hello,” Julia murmured, half-asleep already.
My kid, Knox thought. Actually, genuinely my kid.
He should feel happy. Proud. Excited about being a father.
Instead he just felt terrified.
Because he was going to lose this. All of it. Julia, the baby, these quiet domestic moments.
It was just a matter of time.
Julia fell asleep, her breathing evening out. Knox carefully extracted himself and covered her with a blanket.
He should leave. Let her rest. Go home and figure out how to tell her the truth before Friday’s dinner with Brian.
Instead, Knox found himself in the nursery.
Everything was ready. The crib assembled, the changing table stocked, tiny clothes organized by size. Knox had helped with most of it, spending weekends building furniture and folding impossibly small onesies.
He sat in the rocking chair and pulled out his phone, looking at the ultrasound photo again.
His baby.
His and Julia’s.
Created in a clinic four years ago when Knox was desperate and drowning and just trying to survive.
He’d never imagined this. Never thought beyond the immediate need for money, for saving his studio, for one more month of rent.
And now here he was, sitting in a nursery he’d helped create, in love with the mother of his child, and lying about all of it.
Knox’s phone buzzed. A text from Kenneth at the clinic: The investigator contacted us again. They’re getting more aggressive. Threatening to go to the media if we don’t cooperate. Thought you should know.
Knox stared at the message.
The media. Of course. If Brian couldn’t get the information legally, he’d use press pressure. Expose the clinic’s privacy practices. Make enough noise that someone somewhere would crack.
Knox needed to tell Julia. Right now. Before Brian’s investigation succeeded. Before everything fell apart.
He stood up, walked to Julia’s living room, looked at her sleeping peacefully on the couch.
And couldn’t do it.
Couldn’t wake her up and destroy her life.
Not tonight.
Not when she looked so peaceful.
Not when he could have one more day of pretending everything was fine.
Knox left quietly, locking the door behind him.
Tomorrow. He’d tell her tomorrow.
Before the dinner with Brian.
Before the investigation concluded.
Before it was too late.
Except Knox had been saying “tomorrow” for three months now.
And tomorrow never seemed to come.
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