All Chapters of Escaping My Arranged Marriage With My Biker Student: Chapter 211 - Chapter 220

Queenie POVWe’re finding our way forward—together.“Just so you know, I’m not sleeping in my room tonight. I’m staying in yours with the baby,” Caleb says as he leans against the headboard, his voice casual but resolute.I groan, already anticipating the argument. “Fine. But there are rules.” I point at him, narrowing my eyes, and his lips curve into that infuriating smirk.“Oh, really? And what rules might those be?” he asks, chuckling softly.“One,” I start, holding up a finger, “you try to sleep between baby Caleb’s feedings. Two, you don’t silence him before I wake. I want to get up and feed him, Caleb. And three,” I add with a grin, “you have to sing me a lullaby every time to get me back to sleep.”His laugh rumbles through the room, warm and amused. “Queenie, if I sang, you’d be running out the door, covering your ears, begging me to stop.”I laugh, shaking my head. “Alright, no lullabies. But the rest—you have to agree to it.”He tilts his head, pretending to mull it over. “H

Caleb POVAs we walk back to the bike, Josie chatters endlessly about her plans for the weekend. Her voice is cheerful, bubbly, but my mind is already miles away, back at the clubhouse. Back with Queenie and the baby. Funny how that place, messy and chaotic as it is, feels more like home than anything else right now.“Can I show you something?” she asks suddenly, stopping short and tilting her head at me with a coy smile.I raise an eyebrow, already bracing myself for whatever idea she has. “What?”“Just come with me. I want to show you something I enjoy,” she says, her tone full of mystery.I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Alright,” I mutter. “Let me guess—fashion and beauty? You’ve got a secret boutique full of designer clothes you want to show off?” I quip, adding a wink for good measure.She laughs lightly, shaking her head. “You wish. Come on.”We stop at the bike, and she spins toward me, a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, here’s the deal. You ride, and I’ll tap your s

CalebLeaving Queenie’s room was harder than I expected. Seeing her fall apart, clutching the baby like he’s the only thing keeping her tethered—it burned in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I wanted to stay, to sit there until the pain faded, but I knew I couldn’t. I had to fix this somehow, even if King wasn’t making it easy.The moment the door clicks shut behind me, I make my way toward the room we have church in, each step feeling heavier than the last. My dad's sitting at his desk when I enter, his phone clutched in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He barely looks up as I step inside, his face hard and lined with exhaustion.“Ya shouldn’t be 'ere, Caleb,” he mutters, taking a long drag.“Don’t start with me,” I snap, slamming the door behind me. “I need to talk to him when he calls.”He exhales a plume of smoke, finally meeting my eyes. “You know he won’t speak to 'er, and ya think he’s goin' to open up to you? Ya got another thin' comin', boy.”“Maybe not, but I’m still going

QueenieCaleb’s arms around me are steady, grounding, but the storm inside me won’t stop raging. My sobs shake my entire body, and I feel like I’m falling, spiraling into a bottomless pit. Every word Caleb said slices deeper, each one a reminder that King is making a choice—a choice to shut me out, to push me away, to act like we don’t matter.How could he do this? How could he give up on me, on us, on everything we’ve been through together?I pull back slightly, wiping at my tear-streaked face, but the pain doesn’t ease. Caleb’s eyes are heavy with guilt, his hand lingering on my shoulder as if he’s afraid I’ll shatter if he lets go.“How am I supposed to do this, Caleb?” I whisper, my voice raw. “How am I supposed to sit here and watch him throw everything away?”“You’re not supposed to,” he says softly, his voice trembling. “You’re supposed to fight for yourself, for the baby. Even if he’s too stubborn to see it, you’re stronger than this, Queenie.”His words sink into me, but they

QueenieThe mornings at the cabin are quiet. Too quiet sometimes. The soft rustling of leaves outside, the occasional chirp of birds, and the hum of the kettle are all I hear. It’s been two months since I left the clubhouse, and though the peace was what I craved, the silence sometimes feels oppressive. Caleb’s around, always helpful and steady, but the weight of what’s happened lingers in the air like an unwelcome guest.King pleaded guilty. Manslaughter. He took the deal. We’re waiting for sentencing now, and each passing day without hearing from him only solidifies what Caleb told me: King doesn’t want me waiting. He made that abundantly clear when he refused to take my calls or even send a single message. I've tried to write to him, and each letter was returned, every single one returned, unread. It’s like he’s trying to erase himself from my life, but the ghost of him haunts me anyway.The days have fallen into a routine. Three days a week, I’m back at the college teaching. It’s