A New Dawn, A Hidden Life

Days melted into weeks, and weeks stretched into months, yet the memory of that fateful night remained an echo in Seraphina's heart—soft yet persistent. She buried it beneath the weight of everyday life, drowning herself in work, fashion, and the fleeting glamour of her mother's summer collection fashion week. The event had been a resounding success, the runways filled with elegance, the applause thunderous. But Seraphina's world was not as dazzling.

A feverish heat crept over her as the final celebrations wound down. She chalked it up to exhaustion, the countless hours spent at fittings, shows, and meetings gnawing at her energy. Pushing through, she took some pain relievers, thinking nothing of it.

Yet the weight in her limbs did not lift. The dizziness did not wane. And as she prepared to return to university for her sophomore year, her body betrayed her in the cruelest of ways.

She had just finished packing her luggage when her vision blurred, her knees buckled, and the world around her spun like an unhinged carousel. Darkness swallowed her whole before she could reach out for balance.

Isolde found her first.

With a panicked scream, she rushed to her friend's side, pressing her hand to Seraphina's forehead. Her skin burned. The cold sweat trickling down her temple made her even more alarmed. Without hesitation, she called for help and rushed her to the hospital.

The wait was unbearable. Minutes stretched into eternity as doctors ran their tests, whispers filled the sterile halls, and concern knitted itself into Isolde's features. She prayed, hoped, willed Seraphina to be fine. And then, the doctor returned with the results, holding them in his hand like a verdict.

Two months pregnant.

The words slammed into Evangeline Vale like a storm. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers trembled against the silk of her dress, her carefully composed facade cracking. Dorian Vale sat in stiff silence, his hands clasped tightly, his face unreadable, but his eyes darkened with the weight of realization.

"This cannot be," Evangeline whispered, almost to herself. "Not my Seraphina."

But there it was. The proof of a single reckless night—an irreversible consequence.

The silence in the hospital room stretched unbearably, a chasm filled with unspoken thoughts, regrets, and confusion. Seraphina lay on the hospital bed, her fingers resting lightly on her stomach, her mind lost in the reality of it all. A child.

Her child.

She was carrying the result of a night she barely remembered, a night that still haunted her in hazy fragments. The face of the man remained a mystery, yet the child inside her was real, tangible.

Evangeline turned to her husband with pleading eyes, her voice quivering as she said, "We have to do something. She's still a child herself. This—this will ruin her."

Dorian exhaled deeply, pressing his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. "What do you propose?"

"We can arrange for an abortion," she suggested, though her voice faltered at the word.

Seraphina froze. The walls seemed to close in around her. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and before she could stop herself, words tumbled from her lips, strong, unwavering.

"No."

Her mother's gaze snapped toward her, surprise flickering in her tear-rimmed eyes.

"I will not do it," Seraphina continued, pushing herself up despite the weakness weighing her down. "I am keeping this child."

"Seraphina, be reasonable," Evangeline pressed, her voice laced with desperation. "Do you even understand what this means? You don't even know who the father is!"

"I know enough," Seraphina whispered, her fingers tightening around the sheets. "And maybe, just maybe, this child will be my clue to finding him."

A heavy silence followed her words.

Caelum, who had been pacing furiously, finally stopped. His jaw was tight, his fists clenched. "A stranger, Sera," he spat bitterly. "A nobody. Some callboy you don't even remember, and you want to carry his child?"

Tears welled up in Seraphina's eyes, but she did not back down. "It was my choice," she said softly, though her voice trembled. "I gave myself willingly. I will not pretend otherwise."

Caelum turned away, his breath ragged, his shoulders stiff. His anger was not just at the unknown man, but at himself. He had failed her. He had failed to protect her.

Still, the determination in Seraphina's eyes made his resolve waver.

Finally, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark locks. "Fine," he conceded, though his voice was tight with reluctance. "But I swear, I will find them both—Astrid and that bastard."

Seraphina remained silent, knowing there was no stopping her brother when he made a promise.

Evangeline turned to her daughter, defeated but still clinging to a mother's desperate hope. "And what now, Seraphina?" she asked. "What do you intend to do?"

Seraphina lifted her gaze, wiping away the tears that had gathered. Her decision had already been made.

"I'll transfer schools," she said firmly. "Continue my education abroad, have my child, and return once I've made a name for myself."

Dorian finally spoke, his voice steady. "You've thought this through?"

She nodded. "Yes."

Silence settled once more, and then, to her surprise, Caelum stepped forward. His features had softened, though his eyes still burned with anger for those who had wronged his sister.

"You're not going alone," he declared. "I'll be there when I can, during my breaks."

Seraphina's lips wobbled into a smile, her heart swelling at her brother's unwavering support. She reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly.

"Thank you, Caelum."

His smirk was faint but genuine. "You're my twin. Where else would I be?"

Evangeline sighed, her shoulders slumping in resignation. She could see it now—there was no stopping this.

Dorian finally nodded, looking at his daughter with a mixture of pride and sorrow. "Then we will make arrangements."

A new dawn was upon them.

A secret, tucked away beneath the folds of Seraphina's heart, was about to be carried into an unknown future.

And with it, the echoes of that unforgotten night would never cease to whisper.