Chapter 4 The lines we crossed

Juliet's POV

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at nothing, while my heart beat so hard it scared me.

It wasn't the fast beat of excitement. It was the heavy, painful kind, like my body already knew something my mind was still refusing to accept.

My hands shook as I slowly placed them on my stomach.

Nothing felt different.

Nothing looked different.

But everything was.

Outside my window, the city moved like it always did. Cars passed. Voices floated up from the street. Life went on, loud and careless. The world didn't pause just because mine had cracked open.

My phone buzzed on the bed beside me.

Ryan: You okay?

Ryan: I can't stop thinking about you.

I stared at the screen for a long time.

Normally, those words would have warmed me. Made my chest tighten in that familiar, dangerous way. But now, they only made my throat close.

Because I couldn't stop thinking about him either.

And that was exactly the problem.

I didn't reply.

Not because I didn't want to, but because if I did, everything would spill out. The fear. The truth. The thing growing quietly inside me that had already changed my life.

The room suddenly felt too small. I stood and walked into the bathroom, gripping the sink as if it could hold me upright. My reflection stared back at me, pale, eyes too wide, lips pressed together like I was holding myself together by force.

"This can't be happening," I whispered.

But even as I said it, my body told me I was lying.

I had felt it for days now. The exhaustion that sleep didn't fix. The strange nausea in the mornings. The way my emotions felt too close to the surface, like one wrong breath would shatter me.

And beneath it all... a knowing.

I pressed my hand flat against my stomach.

Ryan LaRusso's child.

The son of Dominic LaRusso, the man who destroyed my father, would be tied to me forever through blood.

The cruelty of it almost made me laugh.

Almost.

By morning, I pulled myself together the only way I knew how.

Makeup. Coffee. A calm face.

Armor.

When I walked into the office, I told myself I could handle it. That I could act normal. That I could survive one more day pretending nothing was wrong.

Then I saw him.

Ryan stood near the boardroom windows, phone in hand, sleeves rolled up. He looked steady, confident, like the world made sense to him.

When his eyes found mine, something softened in his expression.

"Juliet," he said. "You didn't answer me last night."

"I was busy."

"Doing what?"

I swallowed. "Trying to forget you."

A small smile touched his mouth, but his eyes stayed serious. "And?"

"I didn't succeed."

He stepped closer, studying my face. "You don't look okay."

"I didn't sleep."

"Because of me?"

I wanted to scream yes. I wanted to lie and say no.

Instead, I said, "Because of everything."

For a moment, we just stood there. The city moved below us, endless and indifferent.

Ryan reached out and brushed his fingers against my wrist. The touch was light, but it grounded me in a way that terrified me.

"Whatever you're dealing with," he said softly, "you don't have to do it alone."

If he knew the truth, he wouldn't be saying that.

I pulled my hand away quickly. "We should stay professional, Mr. LaRusso."

His jaw tightened. "You're really doing this?"

"I'm doing what makes sense," I said, walking past him. "This, us, doesn't last in the real world."

I didn't look back, but I felt his eyes on me the whole time.

He didn't know.

And I was running out of time before he did.

Later that day, I locked myself inside the bathroom stall, my heart racing.

The pregnancy test box shook in my hands.

I told myself not to look.

That if I didn't see it, maybe it wouldn't be real.

But I looked.

Two pink lines.

The world tilted.

I grabbed the wall as my breath broke apart, half sob, half disbelief.

Two lines.

Two families.

One secret big enough to destroy everything.

Somewhere in this building, Ryan was working, breathing, existing, completely unaware that his life had just changed too.

The days after that felt endless.

I showed up. I smiled. I worked.

Inside, I was falling apart.

Every sound felt louder than it should. Every meeting dragged. Every time Ryan looked at me, my chest tightened so hard it hurt.

He noticed.

Ryan always noticed.

He watched the way I barely touched my food. The way my hands fidgeted. The way I avoided his touch like it burned, even though part of me still wanted it.

One evening, he stopped me in the design studio after everyone else had gone home.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me."

I met his eyes, and for a second, I almost told him everything. His gaze wasn't cruel or demanding. It was worried.

"I'm fine," I said, even though my voice shook.

"You're not," he replied. "And when I try to get close, you pull away like I hurt you."

"You didn't."

"Then tell me what's happening."

Everything, I wanted to say.

Instead, I stepped back. "It's personal."

"Since when do we keep secrets?" he asked.

"Since this stopped being simple."

Pain crossed his face. "Just tell me what I did wrong."

"You didn't," I whispered. "You just exist."

He gave me space, for a while.

But Ryan wasn't someone who knew how to stay away.

By the end of the week, he was back beside my desk with coffee, acting normal.

"You're avoiding me," he said.

"I'm busy."

"You're scared," he said quietly.

I broke. "Please... stop trying to fix me."

His voice softened. "I don't know how."

The night he found out, it was raining hard.

I stayed late at work. When I stepped outside, his car was waiting.

"Get in," he said.

I didn't argue.

The drive was silent. Rain filled the space between us.

When he parked outside my building, he finally spoke.

"How long were you going to keep it from me?"

My blood turned cold.

"The test," he continued. "The appointment. I saw everything."

I couldn't speak.

"It's mine," he said quietly. "Isn't it?"

I nodded, tears spilling over. "Yes."

He closed his eyes and exhaled like the weight of the world had landed on him.

"I should be angry," he said. "But I'm not."

"This will destroy us," I whispered.

He leaned his forehead against mine. "Then we'll face it."

His kiss wasn't gentle.

It was scared. Desperate. Real.

And for the first time, I understood.

We hadn't just crossed a line.

We'd changed everything.