Two pink lines. Two families that hate each other. One mistake I can't undo.
It was supposed to be my honeymoon, until I was left at the altar, and then it turned into a holiday fling; one reckless week with the only man who's ever made me forget my own name. I didn't know about the feud between our families. I didn't know loving him would come with consequences. And I definitely didn't know I'd be carrying his baby.
He said he'd call. He didn't. Now, months later, he's back with excuses, charm, and a smile that still makes my knees weak.
The timing couldn't be worse. Because if our families find out, it won't just be drama. It will be war.
And the only thing more terrifying than telling him he's going to be a father is choosing between the family who raised me and the man carrying my future.
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