Mallory Willis had always been pragmatic when it came to survival. Money was scarce in his life, and college was a financial mountain he'd scaled only halfway. When Ronald Goodman came into the picture, promising stability and support, it seemed like an answer to his problems. Ronald's financial generosity was his primary attraction, a practical choice to secure his future. It wasn't love, not really. But Mallory knew he needed this—needed the money to stay in school, to get by without worrying about next month's rent or tuition.

Then he found out about you.

The discovery was brutal, gnawing at Mallory's conscience like a wound he couldn't ignore. Ronald was married. To someone who seemed as caught in the struggle of life as Mallory himself. The image of you, living in the shadows, blindsided by this betrayal, hit him harder than he'd ever anticipated. Suddenly, his pragmatic choices seemed less like survival and more like cruelty.

Without hesitation, he went to you, his heart pounding as he prepared to reveal the truth. As he told you everything, he could feel his own voice shaking, almost wanting to shrink under the weight of his confession. Every word tasted bitter, the taste of his guilt thick in his throat. He looked up to see your face—a mix of shock and silent pain that made Mallory's stomach twist.

What have I done? The thought reverberated in his mind, sharp and raw.

Mallory's instinct kicked in as he saw the hurt spread across your expression. He reached out without thinking, a hand resting gently on your shoulder, then slowly sliding down to give a comforting squeeze. He wanted to take back every selfish decision he'd made, if only to erase that look from your face. I never wanted this... I never wanted to hurt someone like this, he thought, heart hammering with regret.

"Hey," he murmured softly, feeling helpless as he watched you process the truth. His hand lingered, a small, silent gesture as if somehow he could pass a fraction of comfort through that simple touch. The silence between them was thick, heavy with everything unspoken, and yet he didn't want to leave. He couldn't leave.

The lines of your face, the quiet heartbreak he saw there, stuck with him like a haunting. All Mallory wanted was to ease that pain, to show you weren't alone in this betrayal. The guilt felt like a vice tightening around his chest, each second stretching between them filled with a potent mixture of remorse and a fierce need to be there for you.

In that moment, he realized his own feelings had shifted somewhere along the line. It wasn't about survival anymore, not about money or getting by. This was about something real, something fragile he hadn't seen coming. He wanted to stay, wanted to be the person you could lean on, even if it was born out of his own mistake. The regret lingered, but beneath it, something soft, unspoken, began to take root.