Episode 1: One Last Question
“I’m pregnant.”
Ryan leans back, running a hand through his hair, looking just as stunned as I still feel. He doesn’t say anything at first. I don’t blame him—I barely have words myself. The shock hasn’t worn off.
You know Ryan won’t keep you on if you’re pregnant, Gabe had said yesterday. Not after everything that’s already happened.
Ryan has already put up with so much since I joined the show. Amanda can’t stand me, and every time I survive one disaster, another hits. A pregnancy might really be the final straw.
“I thought the nausea was from the scandal… everything that followed,” I say, breaking the silence. “But after we talked yesterday, I took a test. It was positive. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment this afternoon to confirm it.”
Ryan nods, slowly starting to take it in. “How far along do you think you are?”
“Six, maybe seven weeks. I’ll know more after the appointment.” He leans forward, forearms braced on the desk. “How are you feeling about it?”
How am I feeling? This morning, the reality hit me all over again—the positive test, and then Gabe’s reaction. The certainty in his voice when he implied I wasn’t fit to be a mother. That he wasn’t ready to be a father. That he didn’t want to co-parent with me. The way he looked at my stomach like it was the consequence of a mistake rather than a baby.
My throat tightens, and without thinking, my hand drifts to my lower belly.
Is it selfish to want this baby? Is it stupid? My life has spiralled so hard these past weeks that I barely recognise myself. Yet somehow, in all the wreckage, the one thing that feels steady—right—is this tiny life inside me.
“I’m a lot nervous,” I admit. “And…a little excited.”
His smile is warm. “Then congratulations.”
“Thank you,” I breathe, grateful for his gentleness. I force myself to meet his eyes. “I know you’ve already started writing season four. I wanted to give you notice so you could either…write it in or write me out.”
Ryan thinks for a moment. “Are you up for continuing to work?”
The nausea will be one thing. The fatigue another. But seeing Gabe every day—the man I love, who rejected me and our baby—that’s going to hurt. Facing the cast who thinks I’m a homewrecker won’t be easy either. I haven’t dared contact Cooper; I don’t want to derail whatever chance he and Chelsea have left. I don’t even know if he’s okay.
But right now, I have to think about myself. And the baby.
“I’d like to keep working,” I say quietly.
A job means security. Stability. Money. A future.
Ryan nods slowly. “You likely won’t be showing until this season is finished.”
It hits me then—he’s considering keeping me. He’s actually thinking it through instead of shutting it down.
“For the season after,” he continues, “we might need to adjust things. Delay filming or write it in.”
“So…you’re prepared to keep me?” I hate how hopeful I sound, but I can’t help it.
“I thought we agreed you were staying,” he says simply.
Relief washes through me so strongly I need a second to steady myself. “Thank you, Ryan.”
I know the road ahead won’t be easy. I’ll have to face Gabe, the cast, the press, and whatever fallout comes next. But this gives me something I haven’t had in weeks—something to build on.
“I do have one last question, Sabrina.”
My stomach drops. “Okay…”
“The father—”
“He’s made it clear he doesn’t want me or the baby,” I say, cutting him off. “I’ll be doing the single-mother thing.”
Ryan’s expression softens. “You’ll make an excellent mother.”
The kindness in his voice is so unexpected, so undeserved, that tears sting my eyes. I want to believe him. I’m just not sure I do.
“But I need to know,” Ryan says carefully. “Could this pregnancy become a scandal? Is there any chance the details could come back on us and affect the show?”
I thought I’d made it past the worst part of this conversation. Clearly not. I know he’s not trying to shame me, he just needs to be prepared, for his sake and Amanda’s.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Ryan closes his eyes, and my stomach twists. This is it, I think. This is the moment Gabe warned me about. The final straw. When he opens his eyes again, he’s waiting.
“Gabe is the father,” I say.
Fury flashes in Ryan's eyes—sharp, immediate—and my gut clenches. “And he said he doesn’t want anything to do with it? Or with you?”
“Our arrangement never meant anything to him.” I never meant anything to him. “He doesn’t want me to keep it.”
Ryan mutters a curse under his breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m actually starting to understand Blainesworth’s stance on cast dating.”
“I’m sorry.”
I’m not sorry about the pregnancy. But I do regret not ending things with Gabe before any of this happened—before I fell pregnant, before I fell in love, before all of this blew up in Ryan’s face.
His smile is thin, tired. “Mac and I caused our director a bit of grief when we got together.”
“But you loved her?” I ask quietly.
“I didn’t always realise it, but yes.”
The confession hits something raw inside me. “Gabe loves someone else.”
His worry deepens. “Are you really going to be able to work with him?”
I force a smile. “I’m excellent at compartmentalising when I have to. I know how he feels. We’re over, and it won’t affect my performance.”
Please, I beg silently. Let me be right.
“Does the rest of the cast know?”
I shake my head. “We kept everything quiet. No one else knows.”
“He’ll come around, Sabrina,” Ryan says softly.
“Maybe.”
“He will,” he insists. “This is Gabe we’re talking about.”
I nod, because arguing won’t change anything. Maybe Ryan’s right. Gabe usually does the ‘right thing,’ even when he hates it. He might eventually step up for a child he never asked for, with a mother he doesn’t love.
“Once he’s past the shock, he’ll want to be a father,” Ryan adds.
“You’re probably right.”
Even thinking it makes my chest ache. Even if Gabe steps up later, he’ll resent me for keeping the baby. Maybe even hate me for it. And he and I? That’s done. I won’t hold him to anything.
Ryan studies me for a beat. “Are you able to come back to work tomorrow?”
When I called this morning and asked for a meeting, he’d already reshuffled things in case I couldn’t come in. I wasn’t needed on set today. Tomorrow, I will be.
“Yes,” I say. “I think so.”
Tomorrow I’ll face the cast. And Gabe. And whatever fallout comes with it. But tonight, I want quiet. I want one last breath before everything shifts again.
Ryan nods, and I stand.
“Sabrina,” he calls gently.
I pause in the doorway.
“Call Mac. She’s still waiting to hear from you.”
“I will.”
“You need support. And my wife knows pregnancy… and falling for a co-star. I really think you should talk to her.”
“Okay.” I start to leave, then hesitate. “Can we…avoid telling the cast, at least for now?”
He nods. “For now. No announcements.”
“Thank you.”
In the dimming light of late afternoon, I make my way toward my car, clinging to the hope of slipping out unseen. Avoiding the cast is my entire plan right now. I can’t face their looks, their whispers, their judgement—not until I absolutely have to.
But fate, apparently, has other ideas.
My steps falter, breath catching, when I spot Gabe and Chelsea by his car. It’s nothing dramatic—he’s just grabbing something for her—but it hits like a punch all the same. A snapshot of the life I’ll never have. I parked far enough away that technically they shouldn’t notice me right away, and I’m grateful for even that tiny buffer.
Then Gabe smiles at her. Soft. Warm. Intimate.
It guts me.
He gets to indulge in being close to Chelsea without a single consequence, as if I don’t exist at all. As if what happened between us, what we shared, never meant anything.
And Chelsea—she doesn’t know whether she can trust that I didn’t do anything with Cooper… yet she has no idea she holds every single thing I want. Gabe’s attention. His kindness. His love.
She never meant to come between us, but she always has been between us. And if there’s any irony in this nightmare, it’s that she doesn’t realise she’s the one in my relationship, not the other way around.
I’m frozen, watching her say something that makes him laugh—then she spots me. Her wave is polite, uncertain. Gabe turns at the motion and our eyes connect before I can stop it.
For a heartbeat, everything else drops away. It’s just us. Every buried feeling claws its way up, too sharp, too raw.
I force myself to move—anything to escape before I break down in the middle of this damn car park. I’m half a breath from diving into my car when I hear footsteps behind me.
“Sabrina,” Gabe calls, his voice thick with something I can’t let myself try to name.
My hand lingers on the door handle.
“Are you seriously going to ignore me?” he asks, disbelief lacing every word.
I sigh and turn, bracing myself.
“I didn’t think you were coming in today,” he says, looking me over like he’s trying to work out what’s different.
I shrug and stare at his shirt instead of his face. “Sorry to disappoint.”
It’s petty. I know it. But I’m shredded inside, and seeing him standing there with Chelsea—when his words from yesterday are still cutting through me—it’s too much. I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to feel anything near him. But there he is.
He ignores the jab, though his jaw tightens for a second. “Ryan told everyone you were… sick.”
“I was. Am. Morning sickness.”
The way he winces—just barely, but enough—makes my stomach twist. It’s like the words physically hit him.
“But I’ll manage,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I had to speak to Ryan today.”
Gabe crosses his arms, leaning back against my car like he’s anchoring himself there, blocking my escape. “You told him, then?”
“He needed to know.”
“And?” His brow pulls together.
“And what? I won’t show this season, so it won’t be an issue,” I say, holding his stare, trying to sound steadier than I feel.
“So… you’re staying?” There’s surprise there, softening him for half a second.
“I am.” I keep my eyes on his, searching for even a flicker of something human.
“Does he know…?” The unfinished question hangs between us.
“That it’s yours? Yes.”
His expression cracks, just for a heartbeat, before he mutters, “Fuck,” under his breath, frustration and disbelief tangled in the word.
“He needed to know about any potential scandals. Keeping it quiet wasn’t an option.” I lift a shoulder, forcing myself to sound casual. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell another soul, Gabe.” I trace a tiny cross over my heart. “No one needs to know about us or this. You’re free to… pursue whatever you want.”
My glance flicks to Chelsea. I don’t linger.
Gabe studies me too long, like he’s trying to read something he never managed to understand in the first place. “You’re really keeping it?”
“Yes. And I heard you yesterday—I’m on my own with it.” My voice stays level, even though it feels like something inside me is splintering. I motion for him to move so I can get into the car.
“Sabrina.” He still doesn’t move. “Yesterday, I…” He drags in a breath, struggling.
“You were in shock. I get it,” I say, trying to ease the tension he’s twisting himself into.
He shakes his head, jaw tight. “I really do think it’s a mistake.”
“I know you do. I just don’t agree.”
His disbelief sharpens. “Is this you trying to fill some hole because of Jonathan and your—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.”
“You need to hear—”
“No, Gabe. I don’t.” I reach for the door again. “Move.”
“Think about the child—” His voice cracks just enough to stop me.
“I am thinking about it.” The words leave me harder than I expected.
I love it already. I’m not using it to fill anything. I just want to give something the love I never had. I want to be the safe place I never got. Is that wrong? Is that selfish?
He lets out a rough, frustrated sigh. “If you keep that child, you’re as selfish as I always assumed you were.”
The hit lands as he intended. I nod slowly, swallowing the burn behind my eyes. Of course. Of course that’s what he thinks.
“Right. Because if you believe it, it must be true,” I say, my voice thin with sarcasm. “I haven’t changed at all in eleven years. You’re right about everything.”
He doesn’t answer. Just stands there, saying nothing, doing nothing.
Fine.
“You don’t want it ruining what you’ve built here, and I told you that’s fine.” My voice wavers, but I keep going. “Give us a few seasons and we’ll be out of your life forever. You can move on and be as happy as you want with Chelsea.”
He shakes his head, those intense green eyes pinning me in place. “This isn’t about her, so don’t make it about her.”
“It’s always been about her,” I fire back, bitterness slipping through before I can stop it. My chest aches with everything we might’ve been if Chelsea had never existed in his world, if he hadn’t loved her first. But that’s a fantasy, and we both know it.
“Sabrina,” he says softly, voice cracking just enough to break something in me, “it’s a mistake to go through with this.”
“Then it’s a mistake you’re going to have to live with,” I say, steady even though I’m shaking on the inside.
He exhales hard, frustration etched into his jaw. “Sometimes you’re impossible. Too stubborn to see the truth, too focused on what you want instead of anyone else.”
I cross my arms and meet his stare, refusing to look away. “You’ve always thought so little of me, Gabe. Even when you said you’d try to see past the lies—to see me clearly—you couldn’t. You never have, and you never will.” I glance toward Chelsea, let that truth sit between us. “Go back to her. Keep working on that. And forget your loyalty to Cooper for a second. You call me selfish? What do you think you’re doing with Chelsea?”
My words hit their mark. I see it. And then he turns away, shaking his head like he’s done—done with this, done with me—and walks off.
I stand there frozen, every raw nerve exposed. His accusations, my anger, all of it sitting heavy and sharp beneath my skin. And the worst part? Everything he said was wrong. About me. About the baby. About what happened with Cooper. About what he's doing with Chelsea. But knowing he’s wrong does nothing to dull the pain.
When I finally slide into my car, my hands are trembling. Still, I start the engine and pull away, clinging to the one thing I have left: the promise that I’ll find a way to push forward. For me. For the tiny life inside me.
