Spoiler Alert Story!

Yeah...yeah, I know. I'm back. I just watched the newest Total Divas episode, where Paige admits to a deep secret that nobody else knows about. So if you haven't watched the episode that aired on April 5, 2016, you should not read this yet.

That being said, her admission sparked this whole thing. I've currently been focused on a Seth/AJ story, called Yours to Hold. It's pretty rad. I've also got one OC/Reigns story that I've completed, and I've hit a dead end with the part 2 of that one. Soooo, here's a new one for basically no reason. :)

Paige took a deep breath as the credits began to roll for one of the last couple episodes of the Total Divas television show.

She knew, deep down, that talking about a huge issue that so many women experienced in their lifetime was somewhat heroic. When a woman goes through the loss of a baby, she generally feels alone. Like she'd done something wrong...like she'd never be able to experience the joy of having a maternal bond ever again. By bringing it up on camera, she hoped to motivate women to not bottle up the emotions that went along with such a horrific struggle. She also hoped that it would show that no matter where you come from or what you do, sometimes things like that just... happen.

Giving a stretch, she got up off from the black leather couch at the apartment she currently shared with her dear friend, Chelsea, from her younger days. Chelsea was very rarely home, as she did tons of charity events and even more local art exhibits. Both leading busy lives, it was the perfect situation for each of them. Chelsea wasn't interested in paying for an apartment herself when she was never certain how much money she'd actually be bringing home, and Paige just simply wasn't home enough to pay a huge rent. Although, she supposed, as of late, she was home much more often; she took a few steps back once the debut of her other NXT frontwomen hit the main roster.

She was exhausted, both from constantly filming and in-ring work. Then, throw in a few movies, a terrible break-up, and the birth of Rosa Mendes's daughter...and everything seemed like she was drowning in the darkness. Too much was going on for her all at once, and she just didn't want to deal with it.

So she was home. For now, anyways.

Her phone buzzed once on the cherry oak table beside the sofa, startling her, she bent down to grab it, seeing that it was a text message from Foxy. She, too, had been taking time off, though for her it was more of a family illness than anything else.

OMG girl. You know you can tell me anything. Proud of you. LYLAS.

Unsure of how to respond, Paige tossed her phone back down, ignoring the loud sound it made but silently praying she didn't accidentally break it. She decided to say nothing...at least for now. After all, Fox had plenty of drama in her own world. Plus, the miscarriage she'd gone through when she was 19 was so long ago...and for the most part, she'd grown and gotten through the trauma and shock it had sent her in.

That being said, she knew it was unlikely that she would be able to have a child, and to see her friends begin to grow up, get married, and begin to have families, she kind of felt...Jealous? No, that wasn't right...inadequate, perhaps. Like for whatever fucked up reason, she wasn't good enough to reproduce. Of course, she knew that she was still young and focused on her career, but just thinking about the future in general frightened her. She knew in the world of professional wrestling, she couldn't put all of her eggs in a basket. Careers could be cut in half, should she land wrong. She could be fired on the spot from the WWE, especially if she continued on her downward spiral into drinking and cursing.

For Paige, nothing was certain right now. And that was scary.

Once more, her phone buzzed, notifying her of a new text message.

Fuck off, Foxy, she thought to herself. She'd literally forced herself into a shitty mood, now that she'd been over-thinking her life and where she wanted it to go one day. Deciding that it was unlike Alicia to text her numerous times in a row, she glanced at the screen. A phone number popped up that she didn't recognize...

She knew who it was, although she wished that she didn't. She figured this was coming, the verbal ass-kicking she would be receiving. After all, it takes two to make a baby...

What the fuck is up w/ u divas blabbing to the world about ur problems? Did u ever think that it could ruin me?

Fucking dickhead, Paige thought bitterly. She had half a mind not to say another word to this douche. Things were already weird between them whenever they were forced to be in the same vicinity.

Never said your name. Won't do a thing to your rep...just mine. But fuck me, right?

She waited for a response, anger growing in the pit of her belly. She just imagined him reading his message in his cozy hotel room bed, his pretty little girlfriend just an arm's length away. She would never admit it to anyone, but sometimes she'd wished the little fling between the two of them turned into something more. But that was all it was: a fling. And those were his conditions, of course. She was young and stupid, and even though Paige knew it sounded cliche as hell, it was never more accurate.

She slid back down on to the couch, reminiscing the time she'd snuck into the men's shower room when everyone else had left the FCW training center. When she'd let him bend her over against the icy tile, the steamy water splashing around them. She remembered watching as her black makeup streamed down the drain, thinking that maybe he'd want to give a real relationship a try...

Except, of course, he didn't want to. And he often made that very clear. Still, she held out hope that maybe she was reading him wrong. But with this particular person, that didn't seem to be the case. With him, what he said was what he meant, and like a stupid, idiotic, pathetic little girl, she fell for him. And of course, she got crushed by him.

P...come on. But be realistic-were from diff worlds. Cant have mine crash around me bc of your mouth.

Snorting, Paige rolled her eyes as she was gripping her phone tightly, wanting nothing more than to toss it against the wall at full-force. Her rage was at an all-time high, now more than ever. Go fucking figure that this guy would catch wind of her televised sob story and still make her out to be the bad one. Deciding she could use one of those cold beers she had tucked in the back of her refrigerator, she opted to put her phone down instead of shatter it.

How did she still manage to get so pissed at him, so many years later?