Chapter 2

_Danica’s POV_

I rolled over, my eyes aching and my head spinning. Weak sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains making it difficult to keep my eyes shut. I blinked, my eyelids feeling gritty and found myself lying in this ridiculously soft bed.

“How did I get here?” I muttered and groaned as I tried to recollect. Freya had made me drink a whole lot yesterday to ease the tension and told me she had booked a room for us.

“ Freya?” I called out, my voice raspy and just as I made an attempt to sit up, I realized that I was naked. I pushed myself up, my head throbbing in protest. The bed was enormous and didn't look like a suite Freya would lodge. It looked too VIP.

“I'm not the type to sleep naked,” I mumbled as I sat at the edge of the bed, taking the sheets off. My back felt sore but I pushed myself to stand up anyway. I froze when I felt something wet between my legs, my breathing became heavy as everything began to dawn on me. My gaze swept around the room and my eyes landed on the bedside table. A white envelope lay there and I tried to convince myself that Freya must have left it before leaving even though I knew that couldn't be the case.

My hand trembled as I reached for it. Inside was a cheque with a crazy amount. My mind raced, frantically filtering through the hazy fragments of the night before.

The party, Freya, the drinks, the wrong floor. A cold dread seeped into my bones.

What had I done? I crumbled to my knees, clutching my hair. I just had a one-night stand and I don't who I did it with. The harder I tried to remember, the more elusive the details became. It was a terrifying blank in my memory.

Shakily, I pushed myself from the floor. My clothes were in a crumpled heap on a nearby armchair. I dressed quickly, my movements jerky and uncoordinated. I needed to get out. I needed to find Freya.

Slipping out of the suite, I felt a strange sense of unreality. The hallway was empty. I hurried to the elevator and practically sprinted through the lobby, my eyes downcast, desperate to become invisible. I hailed a taxi, gave my address, and sank into the back seat, trembling. As the taxi pulled away from the hotel, I glanced back.

“Are you alright, Miss?” The taxi driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror.

“ Y-Yes,” I stuttered.

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Three Weeks Later

The doctor's office smelt of medicine, each tile on the floor reflecting the harsh lights. I felt kind of sick just being here amidst the fear I felt.

I had lied to my family that I was feeling a little unwell so I'd be going for a checkup but the truth is, being a medical student, I had a bad feeling about this supposed sickness. I perched on the edge of the examination table, my hands clasped so tightly in my lap my knuckles had gone white before the doctor looked over her computer to look at me.

“By the look on your face, I think you may already know what's wrong,” she broke the silence. “You're pregnant. Should I congratulate you?” She was just as awkward as I was.

“No,” I shook my head and muttered. I could feel the tears I had been holding back welling up in my eyes.

Why? Why did this happen to me? How would I tell my parents? My dad already stopped paying attention to me, if I were to suddenly say I was pregnant for a guy I couldn't even remember, what would he do? Would I be fully abandoned?

The doctor took off her glasses and with a sigh, she placed a hand on mine.

“In this department, we see a lot of young girls in the same pickle, so don't be alarmed. You're in your final year of medical school right?” She asked.

“Yes,” I looked up at her.

“You're an adult with dreams and so you have the right to choose what's best for you. Do you want to keep it?” She was straightforward.

“I don't know,” I hadn't thought about what I'd do if my fear truly materialized.

“Now is the right time to get an abortion with near zero complications but once it's over eleven weeks, over-the-counter drugs won't help,” she stated. “I'm not telling you to get rid of it but I must explain to you the urgency of your decision in this.”

My mind began to race back and forth. Do I want to keep this child or not?

“You don't have to make a decision immediately, you can go home and think about it. You may also discuss it with the father of the baby,” she said knowing I was having a hard time deciding.

“I… I don't know who the father is,” even I felt ashamed as the words left my mouth.

“Ohhh,” the doctor couldn't conceal the momentary shock on her face. “I'm sorry for presuming. I thought the look on your face meant he wouldn't want it. That was wrong of me,” she cleared her throat, quickly assuming her professionalism.

“It's fine,” I shook my head. Her suggestion wasn't wrong to begin with, I was the one who totally fucked up by having sex with a man I couldn't even remember. “I'm just worried about my family finding out.”

I bit my lower lip.

“Your pregnancy won't show until you enter your second trimester. That should buy you enough time to make up your mind,” she answered. I was glad I could talk to her at least, even if she was just a doctor doing her job. It felt a bit relieving.

Stepping out of the hospital, the bright afternoon sun felt like a spotlight of shame. My hand instinctively went to my phone, hovering over Freya’s contact. She was my best friend. She always knew what to do. My thumb paused. How could I tell her?

What would I even say?

"I'm pregnant, but I have no idea who the father is." The words tasted like ash.

There's no way she wouldn't ask questions and of course I wouldn't be able to answer them since I too was just as confused.

The thought of her reaction, of her disappointment, was too much for me to bear. She wouldn't judge me but I didn't want her to worry because of me.

“Maybe it's best I don't call her,” I hesitantly put my phone down as tears steadily rolled down my cheeks.