When Julia and Michael attend an open night at her gallery, they are both taken by the experience, which forces them to uncover their darkest secrets. The couple knows that they have to be open and honest with each other, but will their engagement survive the secrets?

I don’t think I’m one of those women who believe in fate. Because if I did, then fate would have a tough time explaining certain moments in my life, especially about the secret that I’ve been holding onto—a secret that’s as much a part of me as my own skin. I’m Julia, a successful art gallery owner, engaged to the most wonderful man, Michael, an architect with a heart of gold. Michael has two kids from his previous marriage, and I’ve come to love them as my own—basically trying to do the blended family thing. We are a few months away from our wedding, and the planning has taken over our lives. From the invitations to the food, the band to our outfits, it’s been a lot. ut recently, I hosted an artist at my gallery, doing an exhibit based on hidden secrets seen through their art,

This is beautiful,” Michael said when I walked him around the gallery on opening night. “But there’s so much darkness here.” “I know,” I agreed, holding a glass of champagne. “But I guess that’s why some secrets are better left hidden.” Michael looked at me for a moment, and I wondered what he was thinking. His eyes glazed over, and I knew he was remembering something. “Are you okay?” I asked him. “Yes,” he said, taking my hand. At the end of the night, Michael dropped me off at my apartment, where I had enough time to overthink my secret.

I needed to tell Michael about the baby. Eighteen years ago, my life was a struggle. I was just 20 years old, abandoned by the father of my child, and abandoned by my family for getting pregnant in the first place. I was studying art history at the community college by night and working at the local florist by day and weekends. I could barely cover my rent and groceries. There was absolutely no way I could afford the expenses of raising a baby. And the thought of having a child and not giving him the best I could gave me sleepless nights. iin the end—and without having a support system—I gave birth to my newborn son. It was a fairly quick labor, and my son came into the world in a fit of rage. “I know it, little buddy,” I told him as I held him in my arms. “The world is unfair.” A week later, I left my son on the doorstep of an orphanage, convincing myself that it was for his best. For his benefit. “He’ll find a family who will give him a big and bright life, Julia,” I told myself when I got home. I felt hollow for years—there was a part of me that was missing. Whenever I saw a little boy that looked to be his age, I wondered if it could be my son. But I would never know. Eventually, I had to force myself to push through the pain.