Updated Dec 2, 2025 • ~8 min read
Knox woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows and the smell of coffee.
For a disoriented moment, he couldn’t remember where he was. Then Julia’s laugh floated in from another room, and everything came rushing back.
He sat up, taking in Julia’s bedroom in the morning light: tasteful gray walls, a king-sized bed that he’d slept on top of rather than in, modern furniture that looked uncomfortable but probably cost more than his car.
“Knox?” Julia appeared in the doorway, wearing yoga pants and an oversized sweater, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She looked softer like this, more real than the polished CEO version. “I made coffee. Well, I made decaf for me and actual coffee for you. I wasn’t sure if you were a cream and sugar person or—”
“Black is perfect,” Knox said, accepting the mug she offered.
Julia sat on the edge of the bed, cradling her own mug. “So. That wasn’t weird, right? Me asking you to stay? I woke up this morning wondering if I’d completely overstepped.”
“Not weird,” Knox assured her. “Though I should probably head home soon. Get some actual work done.”
“Are you working on anything new?”
“Starting a commission piece. The collector who approached me at the gallery wants something for his office building lobby.”
“Knox, that’s amazing!” Julia’s face lit up. “See? I told you. You’re going to be huge.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“I’m not. I’m just recognizing obvious talent when I see it.” She paused, fingers drumming on her mug. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Have you ever thought about showing outside the city? I know some gallery owners in New York. I could make some introductions.”
Knox’s chest went tight. “Julia, you don’t have to—”
“I’m not offering out of pity or obligation. I’m offering because your work deserves a bigger audience. Because you’re brilliant and the art world should know it.” She met his eyes. “Let me help. Please?”
This was how it happened, Knox realized. This was how the lie grew roots, winding through their lives until there was no extracting it without destroying everything.
Julia was offering to advance his career. Opening doors he’d been trying to break down for years. And all of it was built on the foundation of her not knowing the fundamental truth about who he was to her.
Tell her, his conscience whispered. Right now. Before this goes any further.
“That would be incredible,” Knox heard himself say instead. “Thank you.”
Julia’s smile was radiant. “Don’t thank me yet. Wait until you meet Patricia Lovell. She’s terrifying.”
They talked for another hour, drinking coffee and discussing art and gallery politics. Julia was supposed to have a meeting at ten but kept delaying, texting her assistant that she was running late, clearly not ready for Knox to leave.
Finally, at 9:45, she sighed. “I really do need to go be a functional adult now.”
“Same.”
Knox gathered his jacket, and Julia walked him to the door. For a moment they stood there, neither quite ready to say goodbye.
“Last night was really great,” Julia said softly. “All of it. The gallery, the pizza, the—”
“Kissing?” Knox supplied.
“Especially the kissing.” She rose on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Can I see you again? Or am I being too clingy? My assistant says I’m being too clingy, but she’s paid to be honest with me so I can’t even be mad.”
“You’re not clingy,” Knox said. “And yes. Definitely yes.”
“Dinner tomorrow? My place? I promise I can actually cook. Despite appearances, I’m not completely useless in a kitchen.”
“Tomorrow’s perfect.”
Knox left Julia’s building in a daze, stepping out into the morning rush of the city. His phone buzzed almost immediately.
Aaron: Did you go home last night? Please tell me you went home.
Knox: I stayed at Julia’s.
Aaron: KNOX.
Knox: Nothing happened. We just slept.
Aaron: That’s almost worse! You’re getting domestically involved! What’s next, picking out baby furniture together?
Knox stopped walking. Because actually, Julia had asked his opinion on cribs last night. Had shown him paint swatches and asked which color felt more calming. Had pulled up a list of potential baby names on her phone and wanted to know which ones he liked.
And Knox had given his opinions on all of it. Had helped her narrow down choices. Had felt a dangerous, terrible sense of rightness about the whole thing.
Knox: I’m in too deep, aren’t I?
Aaron: Way too deep. Come to my place. We need to talk.
Forty-five minutes later, Knox sat in Aaron’s cramped apartment while his best friend paced and delivered what was clearly a prepared speech.
“You need to tell her,” Aaron said for the third time. “Not next week, not next month. Now. Today. Before this gets any worse.”
“And say what? ‘Hey, remember that anonymous sperm donor you used? Plot twist: it’s me’? That’ll go over great.”
“It’s going to be terrible no matter when you tell her. But the longer you wait, the more betrayed she’s going to feel. Right now, you’ve known each other—what? Three weeks? It’s still new. You can salvage this.”
Knox knew Aaron was right. Had spent most of last night, lying next to Julia, thinking the exact same thing. But theory and practice were very different problems.
“What if she never forgives me?” Knox asked quietly.
“What if she doesn’t find out until later? After you’re more serious? After the baby’s born?” Aaron sat down across from him. “Knox, you’re building a relationship on a lie. Every day you don’t tell her is another day of deception. Eventually, it’s going to come out. These things always do.”
“The anonymity agreement is airtight. There’s no way she could find out unless I tell her.”
“You’re missing the point. This isn’t about whether she can find out. It’s about whether she should know. She deserves to make an informed choice about this relationship. About you.”
Knox dropped his head into his hands. “I know.”
“So tell her.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” Knox’s voice cracked. “Because I’m falling in love with her, Aaron. Actually falling in love. And if I tell her the truth, I lose her before I ever really have her. At least this way, I get a little more time.”
Aaron was quiet for a long moment. “That’s the most selfish thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“I know.”
“And the most heartbreaking.”
“Yeah.”
Aaron sighed, running a hand through his hair. “For what it’s worth? I think she’s falling for you too. I saw the way she looked at you at the gala. The way she talked about you at the gallery opening. That’s not casual interest.”
Which made everything so much worse.
Knox stayed at Aaron’s for another hour, but no amount of talking changed the fundamental problem: he was in love with Julia Adams, she was pregnant with his baby, and telling her the truth would destroy any chance they had.
So he kept quiet.
That night, Knox went home and opened his laptop. Stared at the Riverside Fertility Clinic login screen for ten minutes before closing it without signing in.
He thought about deleting his account entirely. Destroying any evidence of the donation. Making it impossible for the truth to ever surface.
But that felt wrong too. Like erasing a part of his history. Like pretending the baby wasn’t his when every cell in his body knew the truth.
Julia texted him: Still on for tomorrow? I’m making lasagna. Or attempting to. The baby’s very demanding about Italian food lately.
Knox stared at the message for a full minute before responding: Can’t wait. Should I bring wine?
Julia: Just yourself. That’s all I need 💕
Knox set down his phone and went to his easel. When he didn’t know how to process emotions, he painted. Let his hands work through what his mind couldn’t rationalize.
He started with broad strokes of deep blue and gray—the colors of guilt, of secrets kept in the dark. Then hints of gold crept in, unbidden. The color he associated with Julia. With hope.
The painting took shape slowly: two figures reaching for each other across a divide. Not quite touching. Not quite separate. Suspended in that terrible space between connection and distance.
Knox painted until his hands ached and the sun started rising again. Somewhere in those hours, he’d made his choice—even if it was the wrong one.
He would keep the secret.
He would take whatever time he could get with Julia.
And when the truth inevitably destroyed everything, at least he’d have these moments to remember.
It was selfish. Cowardly. Everything Aaron had accused him of and worse.
But as Knox cleaned his brushes and prepared to get ready for dinner at Julia’s apartment, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
Not yet.
The regret would come later.
Right now, there was only Julia’s smile, the baby’s kicks against his palm, and the dangerous fiction that maybe—somehow—this could all work out.
Knox knew better.
But knowing and accepting were two entirely different things.
So he kept quiet.
And prayed that quiet would be enough.
Reader Reactions