Days Later

Stevens family home

Dunk left shortly after their conversation, saying he was heading back to his apartment to give her space. He kissed Candy gently on the forehead as she napped on the couch, told her he’d be back tomorrow, and slipped out the door without another word to Mandy.

The house felt suddenly too quiet.

Mandy stood in the kitchen for a long time after the garage door closed, staring at nothing. Her phone lay on the island, screen still glowing faintly with the last medical document Dunk had shown her. She finally picked it up, locked it, and set it face-down, as if that could make the whole morning disappear.

But it didn’t.

Over the next two days, the war inside her never stopped.

She went through the motions: cooking dinner, chatting with Brad when he came home exhausted from work, helping Candy with her prenatal vitamins and cravings, smiling when Candy gushed about wedding ideas and baby names. But every smile felt ****, every laugh hollow.

At night, lying beside Brad in their bed, she stared at the ceiling while he slept peacefully. Her mind replayed everything.

She felt ashamed for spying on Dunk—following him, checking his phone, accusing him when he’d been suffering in silence.

She felt guilty for not immediately saying yes, for leaving him in pain when he’d begged for help.

She felt worse for the secret, fluttering heat low in her belly whenever she remembered the thick outline straining against his sweats.

She felt disloyal to Brad, her sweet, steady husband who adored her, just for thinking about it.

And most of all, she felt torn in half by love for her daughter.

Candy was radiant these days—glowing in a way only early pregnancy and young love can make a girl glow. Whenever Dunk was around, Candy’s eyes followed him like he was the center of her universe. She laughed at his jokes, curled into his massive frame on the couch, whispered about their future with absolute trust.

Mandy saw it all, and it broke her heart in advance at the thought of that happiness shattering.

What if Dunk really did reach a breaking point? What if he sought out some stranger? What if Candy found out and lost everything—her fiancé, her trust, the stable family she was building for her baby?

And yet… the alternative.

Mandy caught herself imagining it in flashes she immediately tried to banish: her small, manicured hands struggling around something far too large. Her body—built for display, for admiration—being used in a way Brad never could. The shame of it. The wrongness. The terrifying, shameful pulse of curiosity she didn’t want to name.

She prayed for guidance. She cried in the shower where no one could hear. She avoided Dunk’s texts the first day, then replied with short, neutral messages the second—How are you feeling? and I’m still thinking.

January 9, 2026 – 6:18 a.m.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling her from a restless half-sleep. Brad was still asleep beside her, breathing evenly. The room was dark, winter cold seeping through the windows.

The text was from Dunk.

**Dunk:**

Mandy, I can’t wait any longer.

I’m in real pain now. Been up all night. It’s swollen bad, hasn’t gone down in hours.

I’m either going to the ER (and risk them calling Candy when they see how serious it is)

or I’m going to do something I’ll regret forever.

I don’t want to hurt her.

I need to know your decision.

Please.

A second message followed almost immediately.

**Dunk:**

I’m sorry to put this on you.

But I’m out of time.

Mandy sat up slowly, heart pounding in the silence. Her fingers hovered over the screen, trembling.

Two days of torment had brought her no closer to peace… but they had brought her here.

To the moment she had to choose.