For Faith Cadogan, the discovery that she is pregnant doesn’t arrive as a moment of joy or certainty. It arrives as a reckoning. A line drawn between the life she’s fought to rebuild and a future that suddenly feels terrifyingly fragile.

Faith’s past has never been simple. Her struggle with addiction, her separation from Iain Dean, and the long, exhausting work of staying sober have all shaped the way she sees herself: not as someone who can afford to drift, but as someone who must choose carefully, constantly, and with consequences in mind. So when she learns she’s expecting, her first instinct isn’t celebration. It’s fear.

Fear of losing control.
Fear of repeating mistakes.
Fear of becoming someone she promised herself she would never be again.

When Faith tells Iain about the pregnancy, the conversation doesn’t go the way either of them hopes. She’s honest about her doubts and her initial decision not to continue the pregnancy. He reacts emotionally, then apologetically, and eventually offers to support her. The scan brings another twist: she’s further along than she thought, and termination is no longer an option. Just like that, choice becomes reality.

And reality is heavy.

Iain’s response is to try to fix things quickly. He suggests they get back together, as if rebuilding the relationship and building a family can happen at the same time, on the same emotional timeline. For Faith, that suggestion doesn’t land as reassurance. It lands as a question she can’t ignore: Does he want me, or does he just want to do the right thing?

That distinction matters more than anyone else seems to understand.

Faith isn’t afraid of being a mother. She’s afraid of being a conditional partner. Of being someone Iain stays with because of obligation rather than choice. Her life has already been shaped by moments where other people’s needs came before her own survival. She’s not willing to repeat that pattern — not even for love.

Work offers her no escape. In the middle of a shift, she and Iain are forced to work together, and she watches him connect with a frightened child in a way that reminds her why she fell in love with him in the first place. It’s tender. It’s human. And it makes everything harder. Because it shows her the future she could have — if trust weren’t already so worn thin.

Then comes the quiet turning point.

After talking to Stevie and witnessing a proposal in the ED, Faith realises something she’s been avoiding: she doesn’t just want to survive this pregnancy. She wants to believe in the family it could create. She decides to fight for the relationship — not out of fear, but out of hope.

She goes to find Iain.

He isn’t there.

And that absence becomes the most painful answer of all.

Faith’s storyline isn’t about melodrama or easy moral judgments. It’s about a woman trying to protect the life she’s rebuilt while standing on the edge of something that could either heal her or break her open again. It’s about understanding that motherhood isn’t just about carrying a child — it’s about choosing the world that child will be born into.

For Faith, that choice isn’t simple. It’s brave. It’s terrifying. And it’s happening in a moment where love, trust, and timing are all pulling in different directions.

Whatever comes next, one thing is clear: this pregnancy isn’t just changing Faith’s future.

It’s forcing her to decide who she is — and what she’s willing to risk to keep it.