Stacey’s POV
The glow of my laptop bathed the room in cool light and I perched on my bed with my legs crossed the fan humming softly overhead. It was quiet, but my thoughts were loud enough to shatter the silence.
I couldn’t stop replaying Brent’s face from earlier—the way he looked at me, like he was completely untethered lost in a storm he didn’t know how to escape.
And because he was Brent. He’d never ask for help.
That’s why I’d stepped in. Someone had to and since Betty wasn’t exactly an option right now, it had to be me.
I typed Megan’s name into the Facebook search bar. My fingers moving quickly over the keyboard. Brent hadn’t given me much to go on. Just a first name a rough idea of where she lived and the fact that they’d met during his immersion camp. But I didn’t need much.
I had a knack for connecting dots that other people didn’t even notice.
The first few results were useless—locked profiles and no photos nothing to work with. I sighed, scrolling further. And then I saw it.
Her profile picture was artsy in a way that screamed try-hard. She was sitting by a lake, blonde curls cascading over her shoulders, her face tilted slightly as though she was caught in some profound thought. Her bio read: “Living for the little things.”
"God, even her tagline is basic," I muttered, clicking on the profile.
Her public posts weren’t many, but they were enough. Group photos from the immersion camp a blurry shot of a bonfire a few motivational quotes. And then, there it wasa recent post that made my stomach drop.
Megan, standing in a soft pink dress, her hands cradling a small but unmistakable baby bump.
The caption read: “10 weeks to go”, followed by an explosion of heart emojis.
I leaned back against the headboard staring at the screen. This was definitely her.
For a moment, I hesitated and my cursor hovering over the message button. But then I shook my head. This wasn’t about me. It was about Brentand maybe Betty too.
I clicked the button and typed a message, keeping it short:
“Hi Megan, I think we need to talk. It’s about Brent.”
The response came faster than I expected.
“When and where?”
The next day, I found myself at a small coffee shop near campus sitting at a corner table where we wouldn’t be overheard. The smell of coffee and pastries hung in the air, but I wasn’t interested in either. I ordered a black coffee and checked my phone obsessively as I waited.
The door chimed and I looked up.
Megan walked in and I almost dropped my cup.
It was eerie how much she looked like Betty. The same golden curls, the same warm brown eyes. But Megan was thinner more delicate like a porcelain version of Betty. The only thing that set her apart was — the subtle swell of her belly beneath a fitted sweater.
Her gaze locked onto me immediately and she walked over with a confidence that felt out of place though there was a flicker of caution in her eyes.
"Stacey?" she asked, stopping at the edge of the table.
"That’s me," I said, standing up and gesturing to the seat across from me. "Thanks for meeting me."
She sat down slowly her movements careful. She studied me her expression unreadable. Finally, she folded her hands on the table and tilted her head slightly.
"So,you’re Brent’s girlfriend?"
"No,but I am someone you should be scared of if you don’t tell me the truth."
Her composure faltered for just a second, but I caught it.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice quieter now.
"You know exactly what I mean. Brent’s barely keeping it together and if you’re lying about this baby being his, I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly who you are. So let’s skip the games, shall we?"
Megan’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t say anything at first. She looked down at her hands and her fingers twisting together. When she finally spoke her voice was softer almost defensive.
"I’m not lying," she said. "The baby could be his."
"Could be?" I pressed, leaning back and crossing my arms. "So you’re not sure."
"I don’t know for certain. But I’m trying to do the right thing here."
"The right thing?" I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Funny, because from where I’m standing it looks like you’re just making a mess."
Megan’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t argue. Instead she looked me in the eye and her voice steady despite the slight tremble in her hands.
"I didn’t come here to fight with you. I came because I thought you wanted to talk about Brent."
"Fine. But let me be clear. If you’re lyingabout anythingI’ll find out. And trust me, Megan, you don’t want me as your enemy."
t She nodded slowly her shoulders slumping.
"Okay."
For a moment the table between us felt like a battlefield the tension thick enough to choke on. But when she looked away, I knew I’d won. For now.