Semua Bab In love with my step-son : Bab 21 - Bab 30

“Tell me this baby isn’t his.”Derrick’s voice came again—lower now. Steadier.Too steady.The kind of quiet that made my bones ache. The kind that felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, waiting for the earth to give way beneath my feet.He wasn’t yelling.And that—somehow—was so much worse.The silence between his words stretched tight like piano wire. His jaw was locked, eyes fixed on mine, but it was the tremble in his shoulders that betrayed him. A man trying not to break. A man who already had.I stood frozen, my back pressed lightly against the kitchen counter, both hands cradling my belly like it was the only thing tethering me to the ground.My lips parted.No sound came.There was a scream building in my chest—but it wasn’t rage.It was panic.Guilt.Grief.The air between us was thick. I could feel it pushing against me from every direction. Smothering. Suffocating.He waited.Watching me like a man watching his whole life fall apart in real time.The curve of my belly w

The next morning, I woke up before the sun.I didn’t sleep much.The thin mattress creaked beneath me as I turned slightly, groaning from the dull ache that had become a constant part of me. My hand rested over my swollen belly, the only warmth in that cold, silent room. The faint flutter of movement brushed beneath my palm—a tiny kick, soft but certain.I breathed out slowly.That small, fluttering life reminded me that even if I felt alone, I wasn’t.There was life inside me. Depending on me. Waiting for me to be strong—even when I had nothing left in me.I closed my eyes and whispered, “We’re okay... just a little longer, okay?”I didn’t know if I was talking to the baby or myself.Maybe both.With effort, I sat up, every joint in my body stiff and sore. My lower back ached the way it always did now, and my legs protested as I swung them over the side of the bed. But I pushed through it, biting down on the pain.I brushed my teeth over the tiny sink in the corner. The cold water ma

“I don't want to see you in my house before sunset.”The words echoed in my head like a broken record. I couldn’t unhear them, couldn’t unfeel the way they slapped against my heart like ice-cold water. I stood still in the middle of the bedroom, my body stiff, my heart beating too loudly in my ears.Derrick’s eyes weren’t the same. They were empty—no love, no pity. Just cold, cruel silence as he held Jackson’s phone tightly in his hand, the screen still glowing like it held proof of all my sins.“I didn’t know…” I whispered again, my voice so weak it barely reached him. “Please, Derrick. You have to believe me. I didn’t know Jackson had a plan. I didn’t know anything about this.”He didn’t blink. “No. You knew enough.”I stepped forward, hands trembling. “I swear to you—”“I said enough!” His voice exploded, sharp and quick like lightning. My chest jumped. “Don’t play innocent, Celine. You’re not.”He began pacing, back and forth, the floor creaking under his heavy footsteps. The phon

The wind was harsh that morning.I wrapped my coat tighter around my growing belly as I walked down the cracked sidewalk. The diner was two blocks from the shelter — the only place that had given me a shift this week.I hadn’t eaten yet. My stomach grumbled, but I ignored it. The pain in my feet was nothing new. The ache in my lower back was growing worse each day. But I kept going. I always did.When I stepped inside the diner, the bell above the door jingled softly.Warm air greeted me. The smell of bacon and coffee filled the room, and for a moment, I closed my eyes and just breathed.The manager, a short man named Gary, waved at me. “You’re early, Celine.”I forced a smile. “Just didn’t want to be late.”He nodded toward the back. “There’s a table to clear near the window. And be gentle with the lady in the red coat — she doesn’t look like she wants company.”I glanced toward the booth. A woman sat there alone. Mid-thirties, maybe older. Dark curly hair pinned into a neat bun. Her

Rain poured from the sky like punishment, sharp and relentless. I stood just outside the shelter’s door, shivering as cold droplets slid down my neck and soaked into the thin collar of my coat. I held it tighter around my belly, but it barely helped. My shoes squelched when I shifted my weight, and my clothes clung to my skin like a second, soggy shell.The door behind me clicked shut, sealing me out.A minute ago, I had been inside, clutching the counter, hoping—begging—for a spot. The receptionist hadn’t looked cruel, but her face had that tired kindness that comes from saying "no" too many times.“I’m sorry, Celine,” she had said, not unkindly. “We’re overwhelmed right now. No beds. No space. If anything opens up tomorrow, I’ll call.”That was it.No blanket. No cot. No chance to rest even for a night.I stared at her, blinking back tears, willing her to change her mind. But her eyes had already moved on to the next problem. The next name on the list.Now I stood outside, the cold