The prison cafeteria reeked of boiled cabbage and sweat. Sophia sat at the end of a metal bench, her spoon barely touching the slop on her tray. She tried to focus on breathing evenly, but nausea rolled through her in waves.

“Princess doesn’t look so good,” Marla’s voice cut across the table.

Sophia stiffened. “I’m fine.”

Marla snorted and leaned closer, her breath sour. “Fine? You’ve been holding your stomach all week. What’s the matter, Kingston? Didn’t your rich daddy teach you how to keep your legs shut?”

Laughter rippled around the table. Another inmate chimed in, “Maybe she’s knocked up. Wouldn’t that be a laugh—Kingston heir carrying some gutter brat.”A few inmates snickered, banging their spoons against the table. Sophia’s cheeks burned, but she kept her eyes on her tray. One woman leaned close enough that Sophia felt her breath on her neck. “Princesses don’t last long in here. Better learn fast.”

Before Sophia could respond, an older inmate with grey streaks in her hair muttered, “Leave the girl. You’ll choke on your own venom one day.” Marla only laughed, but the warning made Sophia’s chest tighten. Shame and fear warred inside her, and she forced herself to swallow each bite as if it were punishment.

Sophia pushed her tray aside and stood, but Marla shoved her shoulder. The tray clattered to the floor, stew splattering across the concrete.

Sophia’s hands balled into fists. For a heartbeat she wanted to hit back, to prove she wasn’t weak. But before she could act, a guard’s whistle shrieked.

“Enough!” he barked, striding over. “Back to your seats, all of you.”

Marla smirked and leaned back lazily. “Just having a friendly chat, officer.”

Sophia sat again, her pulse hammering, cheeks burning with shame. The whispers followed her for the rest of the meal.

---

Later, the infirmary smelled of bleach and metal. A drip echoed from a leaking tap, each drop louder than Sophia’s heartbeat. She perched on the edge of the cold examination table, twisting her fingers together until they ached.

The nurse flipped open a chart. “When was your last cycle?”

Sophia’s mind scrambled. She tried to count the days, then the weeks, but everything blurred into grey walls and ticking clocks. “I—I don’t know.”

The nurse’s brow furrowed. “We’ll run a test.”

Sophia shook her head quickly. “It can’t be. I can’t be.”

“Sit still,” the nurse instructed, her tone brisk.

Minutes stretched like hours until the nurse returned, her expression calm but unyielding. She handed Sophia a folded slip. “It’s confirmed. You’re expecting.”

Sophia’s breath came in ragged gasps. The walls pressed closer, the smell of bleach turning her stomach. She dug her nails into her palms until they left red half-moons. Lucas’s face flashed before her eyes—the bridge, his hand over hers, his promise. For a second she felt certain the floor would give way and she would fall forever.

The world tilted. Sophia clutched the slip until it crumpled. “No. That’s not possible.”

“You’ll be monitored,” the nurse said, her voice softening slightly. “When the time comes, you’ll be transferred to the city clinic. It’s standard procedure.”

Sophia felt tears blur her vision. “Not here. Please—I can’t—” Her words broke into sobs.

The nurse placed a hand on her shoulder. “For both of you, you need to stay calm.”

Back in her cell, Sophia curled into herself, pressing her arms tightly over her stomach. For both of us, the words echoed.

“Lucas,” she whispered, her throat raw. “What do I do?”

---

The following day, she was summoned to the visiting room. Mr. Harris sat at the table, his tie slightly askew, papers spread neatly before him. He studied her pale face. “You look unwell.”

Sophia forced herself to sit straight. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Harris said evenly. “The nurse informed me of your condition.”

Her head jerked up. “She told you?”

“It changes things. A pregnancy complicates your case.” He leaned forward. “If your father had intervened, perhaps we could have arranged better accommodations. But…”

Sophia’s breath caught. “But what?”

“I contacted him again yesterday. He declined.”

Her throat closed. “He declined?”

“I’m sorry. Mr. Kingston made it clear he will not interfere.”

Sophia shook her head wildly. “No—you didn’t explain right. Maybe he misunderstood. He wouldn’t just—”

abandon me.”

Harris shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her eyes. “He understood very well, Miss Kingston. He believes distance will protect the family name. The papers are already circling like vultures.”

Sophia’s throat closed. “So his name is worth more than mine?”

Harris exhaled, weary. “That’s how powerful men survive, I’m afraid.”

“You must prepare yourself. You may be more alone in this than you expected.”

Tears stung her eyes. “But Lucas… he promised.”

“Then hold on to that promise,” Harris said, gathering his files. “It may be all you have left.”

The guard tugged her up from the chair. Her knees trembled so badly she could barely walk.

---

That night, Sophia tried to write. The paper trembled under her hand.

Lucas, I need you. I’m scared. Please—

Her pen blotted the page. She ripped it in half, pressing the pieces to her chest as she rocked slowly on the bunk.

“I’ll keep the promise myself,” she whispered, though her voice broke on the last word.

---

The next morning, the nurse appeared again with a clipboard. “We’ll need to transfer you to the city clinic for further care,” she said.

Sophia froze, her hands tightening around her stomach. A transfer meant strangers, harsher eyes, more records.

“What happens there?” she demanded.

“They’ll monitor the pregnancy, keep official reports. That’s all I can tell you.”

Sophia’s pulse thundered. She saw Marla’s smirk, heard the whispers in the cafeteria. If the city clinic got involved, her secret would be completely out of her hands.

When the nurse left, Sophia pressed her forehead to the cold wall. For a long moment, she imagined Lucas opening one of her letters, imagined his hands on the page, his eyes soft with the memory of their promise on the bridge.

“Don’t forget me,” she whispered, her tears falling hot and silent. “Please, Lucas. Don’t forget.”

But the silence of the cell answered her back.