Todos los capítulos de Pregnant by my Ex-Boyfriend’s Father: Capítulo 91 - Capítulo 100

Aria POV Pale sunlight slipping through the thin gap in my curtains and landing softly on the wall, like it was afraid to wake me. For a few seconds, I lay still, suspended in that fragile space between sleep and memory.I love doing this, it keeps me grounded. Then everything rushed back. Twenty days. My hand went instinctively to my phone on the bedside table. No notifications. Of course. I had deleted half my life the night before. A strange calm settled over me. Not peace. More like… absence. The kind you feel when a crowded room suddenly empties and you’re left standing with the echo. I pushed myself up slowly, joints stiff, and padded into the kitchen. The pepper soup from last night waited on the stove. I reheated a small portion, ate standing by the counter, spoon in one hand, the other resting unconsciously on my stomach. Still flat. Still secret. Still mine. When I finished, I carried my bowl to the sink. That was when my phone buzzed. One notification.

Aria POVThe word fell between us like glass. Leah stared. Once. Twice. Then she blinked hard, like her eyes had betrayed her. “No,” she said automatically. “Yes.” Her mouth opened and closed. She leaned back in her chair, palms flattening against the table as if she needed the surface to steady herself. For a brief second, she looked unprepared. Almost young. “What,” she whispered. “I’m pregnant.” “How.” “That’s usually how pregnancy works.” She shot me a look sharp enough to cut through bone. “This is not a joke.” “I know.” “How long.” “Almost five months.” The color drained from her face. “Five… Aria.” “I know.” “Five months?” “I didn’t plan it.” “I’m not saying you did, I’m just—” She stopped, dragged a hand through her hair, and stared at the ceiling like it might offer instructions. When she looked back at me, her eyes were bright, not with tears, but shock. “Whose.” The question was careful. Controlled. I hesitated. Too long. Her pupils

Aria POVThe words landed slowly. Carefully chosen.What?Was she stalking me or him?What’s going on?“They were not kissing,” she said. “They were close. But not in the way the image suggested.”A pause.Then“I edited the photograph. Slightly. Contrast. Sharpness. I did not intend to imply intimacy. But intent does not erase impact.”My mouth fell open.We did kiss that night. I know we did.So what was this?Alex’s cleanup. His version of control.Not bad.I need to call him for some clarifications about this matter.Her hands rested flat on the table. Still.“My edit changed how the moment was perceived.”The room went quiet.No gasps. No murmurs. Just cameras clicking softly, like insects.“I should have done better,” she continued. “As an author. As a public figure. I sincerely apologize to Aria especially for whatever pain or discomfort my stupid actions must have cost her.”She didn’t cry.She didn’t justify herself beyond that.She took responsibility, apologized, and stoppe

Aria POV.I called him.I did not plan to. I did not rehearse. I just stared at my phone long enough for my thumb to betray me.It rang once.Twice.He picked up on the third.“Aria.”His voice did that thing again. Calm on the surface. Careful underneath. Like he was holding something fragile and pretending it was nothing.“What did you do to Jane,” I asked immediately.No greeting. No warm up. Straight to it.A pause.Not confusion. Calculation.“I corrected a narrative,” he said.I scoffed. “You threatened her.”Another pause. Longer this time.“I protected you.”“That is not protection,” I said, pacing my living room, bare feet cold against the tiles. “You are the reason I needed protection in the first place.”Silence.I could almost picture him leaning back. Jaw tight. Eyes tired.“You think I wanted any of this,” he said quietly.“I think,” I said, voice shaking despite myself, “that you stepped into my life, detonated it, and now you are acting like the cleanup crew deserves a

Aria POV The next morning, The doorbell rang at 8:14 a.m. Sharp. Insistent. Too cheerful for how slowly my body was moving. I groaned, rolled onto my side, and stared at the ceiling for a full five seconds before sitting up. My back complained. My stomach tightened, then settled. The baby had opinions this morning. I pressed my palm there briefly, a quiet acknowledgment, before slipping out of bed. By the time I reached the door, I already knew what it was. The dress. I signed with one hand, the other clutching the robe tighter around me, then carried the box inside like it was fragile. Which felt ironic, considering the amount of bubble wrap involved. I dropped it on the couch, made tea first. Ginger. Always ginger now. Let it steep. Let myself breathe. Only then did I open the box. Cream colored. Quality material. Ruffles placed exactly where they needed to be. The kind of dress that looked effortless while doing a lot of work. I smiled despite myself. I slipped it on ca