Pregnant

Isabella’s POV

It has been weeks since that wild, chaotic night. The sex with the stranger was still etched in my mind, though I could barely recall his name—if I’d ever learned it. I couldn't even figure out what he looked like.

After that night, I found myself spiraling into confusion and guilt, unsure of who I had become in the haze of heartbreak and alcohol. The excitement of the moment had dulled, leaving me to wrestle with the reality of my decisions. It felt like a fever dream, but the consequences had begun to settle in.

I hadn’t told anyone about it. Not my best friend, not even my therapist. And certainly not Andrew, my now ex-boyfriend, who had been blowing up my phone relentlessly. I hadn’t seen him since I walked in on him and his step-sister in our apartment, tangled up like a sick joke. The image burned into my mind, twisting my stomach with a mix of anger and nausea.

But here he was, standing in the doorway of my workplace, looking as if he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes, once so familiar, now filled me with nothing but disgust.

"Bella, please. We need to talk," he pleaded, his voice cracking as he stepped into the small, quiet art gallery where I worked. The tranquility of the space, with its soft lighting and carefully curated pieces, was shattered the moment his voice echoed through the room.

I stood behind the counter, my hands gripping the edge of the polished wood as I tried to keep my composure. My coworkers glanced over nervously, sensing the tension.

"Andrew, get out," I hissed through clenched teeth, not wanting to cause a scene but knowing that’s exactly what was coming. "You’re embarrassing me."

"I know I messed up," he continued, ignoring my warning. His voice was loud enough now that a couple of patrons had started glancing in our direction. "It was just that one time, Bella. I swear. I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was doing! You can’t just throw us away like this."

My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I felt the familiar anger rise. "You didn’t know what you were doing? You were sober enough to screw your step-sister!" I spat, my voice shaking with fury. "Leave. Now."

"Isabella, please," he stepped closer, his hands outstretched as if he could somehow touch me and fix everything that had been broken. "I love you. I made a mistake, but we can fix this. We can work through it—"

"Work through what?" I cut him off, my voice trembling now with barely contained rage. "You don’t get to come here and act like we can just move on from this. You disgust me." My pulse pounded in my ears, and I fought the urge to scream. "Get out of here before I call security."

Just as Andrew opened his mouth to protest, the door behind him slammed open with a loud crash. In walked Alicia—Andrew’s so-called step-sister, the one I had caught him with. Her heels clicked loudly on the gallery floor as she stormed in, her eyes blazing with fury.

"You little bitch," she snarled, making a beeline straight for me. My heart sank. Of course, she would show up now.

"Alicia, what the hell are you doing here?" Andrew snapped, trying to block her path.

"Oh, don’t act all high and mighty now," she hissed, shoving him aside. "This slut has been trying to take you away from me since day one."

I stared at her, stunned. "Excuse me? Take him from you? He’s my ex-boyfriend, Alicia. You were the one sneaking into his bed behind my back."

A crowd had started to form at this point, the hushed murmurs of onlookers growing louder. My coworkers were frozen in place, unsure of how to intervene.

Alicia didn’t care about the scene she was causing. She stepped closer, her face inches from mine, her breath hot and venomous. "He was mine before he was ever yours. You were just a pathetic placeholder. He’ll come back to me, like he always does."

Andrew’s protests fell on deaf ears as Alicia continued her drama. "You think you’re better than me? You think he really loved you? Ha! You’re nothing. You’re weak, just like all the other girls who think they can change him."

My vision blurred with tears of anger. I couldn’t believe this was happening, that she had the nerve to waltz in here and spew her filth. "You two deserve each other," I muttered, feeling my heart clench with each word. "You’re both disgusting."

Without warning, Alicia’s hand shot out and shoved me hard. My feet stumbled backward, and before I could catch myself, I hit the floor with a sickening thud. Pain exploded through my head as it collided with the cold tile. My vision swam, and I could hear distant gasps from the onlookers, but everything was muffled, like I was underwater.

The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was Andrew’s panicked face as he rushed toward me.

When I came to, I was lying in a stark white hospital bed. My head throbbed, and the antiseptic smell of the room made me nauseous. Blinking against the harsh lights, I slowly became aware of the steady beeping of a heart monitor beside me.

"Miss?" A soft voice broke through the fog. I turned my head to see a doctor standing at my bedside, a concerned expression on her face.

"W-What happened?" I croaked, my throat dry and scratchy.

"You passed out after hitting your head," the doctor explained gently. "We ran some tests, and… well, there’s something you need to know."

A heavy silence fell over the room as she handed me a chart. I could barely make out the words through the haze in my mind, but one word stood out more than the rest: Pregnant.

I stared at the doctor, my heart hammering in my chest. "I’m… I’m pregnant?" I whispered, the reality of the situation crashing down on me. Flashes of that wild night with the stranger surged to the forefront of my mind.

The doctor nodded, her expression sympathetic. "It’s early, but yes, you are. I know this might come as a shock…"

Shock?! Shock didn’t even begin to cover it. My hands trembled as I let the chart fall to my lap. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Everything felt surreal, like I had been pulled into someone else’s life.

How could this be happening?

I was pregnant. With a stranger’s baby.