Baby Daddy

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗

Randall lives on the sixth floor of a ten story building that can be easily mistaken for an A-list hotel only meant for celebrities and socialites. The hotel is right in the middle of the city and unlike the bustling street, it is serene and beautiful on the inside. There is a guard stationed in and outside the building, both immaculately dressed in black and green uniforms. A red carpet stretches from the sidewalk straight into the foyer, leading to the elevators.

When I step on the red carpet, I can't help but feel lavish and important - like I actually belong here.

This must be how Maddie feels when walking the runaway. Its exhilarating.

My breath catches in my throat as I tilt my head up, staring at the ceiling. Its beautiful, and dark, with red and white thorn roses pulling out to every corner.

I have been to many places but this certainly makes my head spin. And I'm going to be living here, its almost hard to believe. Surreal, like a dream.

Well, fuck my life.

I stumble around as workers push and weave about, side stepping me. They carry around bags upon bags and boxes. It only takes a second for me to adjust and recall that those are my things that are being moved.

Everyone here knows Randall by name. It's no surprise. After all he is the first born son and heir to the Michaelson empire.

Its hard to recognize him as he smiles and chats with nearly everyone coming his way.

"This is Kira," He'd said to them earlier. He had his left hand on my lower back, eyes filled with laughter as he spoke.

Of course, I would have laughed at their shell shocked expressions. . .if I wasn't too caught up in my head.

I find myself lost after that, chasing my train of thoughts, and hold my breath too long.

My heart drums in my ears. The walls feel like they're closing in on me and when someone nudges me on the shoulder, the ground quakes and sways around me.

This can't be happening.

Pressing my eyes shut, I ground my jaw and take a deep breath.

And as I open my eyes, looking around, everything seems normal.

Living with Randall is not so different from being alone.

He's at work most of the day - wakes up at the crack of dawn and comes back, well, in the late hours. And since I quite my job, I had nothing more in the world than time for my mind.

Time seems to be in no rush when you have nothing to do. I often wonder how Randall has managed to live alone for this long. In such a big place, mind you.

I tour the house on my second day, after spending the previous day laying in bed, doing absolutely nothing.

I got up a few times, but just couldn't get myself to do anything useful. I'd stand up, get something to chew on and simply get back into bed again.

Out of three bedrooms, Randall designates me the one next to his, opposite the bathroom. Right up a flight of stairs, unfortunately.

Two days later, I finally master enough energy to start unpacking my things. My heart bleeds when I come across something I either wore or touched when I was pregnant.

Pregnant, I laugh, now there's a miracle you don't get everyday.

I cradle the piece of clothing against my chest and cry. I wonder what he would do if he finds me in this fetal position. Probably nothing. Why would he care anyway?