Lahat ng Kabanata ng Pregnant by my Ex-Boyfriend’s Father: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

Heat shot across my body in a way that made no sense. His breath hitched. His jaw tightened. He looked at me like he had been fighting himself for years. He leaned in so slowly I forgot how to breathe. The second his lips touched mine, the whole world narrowed to just this: the warmth of his mouth, the faint taste of coffee and mint, the way his hand slid to the back of my neck like he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go. It started soft, almost careful, like he was asking permission. Then I kissed him back—really kissed him—and something inside him snapped. His arms tightened around my waist, pulling me flush against him. The kiss turned hungry, desperate, like we’d both been holding our breath for weeks and finally remembered how to exhale. My fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him closer, and a low sound rumbled in his chest that made my knees go weak. He broke away first, just an inch, forehead pressed to mine, breathing hard. “Aria…” “Do you feel anything for me?” I whis

That night, when I got home and finally sank into my bed, my phone buzzed. Alexander: What are you eating tonight, honeydrip? I stared at the screen and smiled like a fool. Honeydrip. That was new. And…I liked it. I typed back immediately. Me: Honeydrip? That’s a first. I like it. I want to hear that again. What inspired it? His reply came slower this time, like he was choosing his words carefully. Alexander: Because you’re sweet like honey. And you… drip quite impressively during other activities. I gasped and laughed at the same time. Men. Me: Eww. So I guess it’s safe to say it’s only sex you enjoy, not my company? I rolled onto my stomach, twirling a loose strand of hair around my finger, feet kicking lightly in the air like I was sixteen and not a grown woman losing her mind over her boss. He replied almost instantly. Alexander: You know that’s not true. I enjoy every part of your being. My chest tightened. Me: Hmm. Which part exactly? Alexander: Ev

I woke up that morning craving something so specific it startled me.Warm coconut rice infused with lemongrass and ginger. Smoky. Fragrant. The kind of smell that feels like comfort before the food even touches your tongue.I lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it. I had never eaten that in my life. Not once.My stomach tightened.“How do you even crave what you’ve never tasted?” I mumbled to myself.I pushed myself out of bed, deciding maybe my body just wanted breakfast. But the second my feet touched the floor, the room tilted.Not dizziness.Blur.The walls smeared into each other like wet paint.“Okay… weird,” I whispered.I took one step forward.And then I was on the ground.Not dramatic. Not graceful. Just… down.Cold tiles against my palms. My heart racing like I’d been running.“What is wrong with me?” I breathed.I stayed there for a moment, embarrassed even though no one was watching, then forced myself up using the edge of the bed. My legs felt rubbe

Finally, it was Monday. It felt like the weekend had stretched itself into something cruel and endless, like time knew exactly what it was doing to me and decided not to be merciful. I woke up before my alarm, heart already racing, chest tight with the kind of dread that sits quietly and waits for you to acknowledge it. I stood in front of my wardrobe for a long time. I needed something functional. Something safe. Something that could carry me through a workday and then through a decision that felt too big for my body to hold. I settled for a soft midi dress in a muted cocoa brown. Long sleeves, fitted at the waist but loose enough around my stomach that nothing pressed, nothing questioned. The fabric moved when I walked, nothing stiff, nothing dramatic. Shoes were low block heels, comfortable enough to run if I needed to, chic enough to still feel like myself. Hair pulled back into a sleek low bun. Minimal makeup. Tinted lip balm. Mascara. Nothing extra. Today did not deserve ext

I wanted to call in sick so badly that morning. Like proper sick. The kind where you don’t even pretend. Where you stay in bed, cocooned in blankets, hiding from your life. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t about to lose my work credibility because of some messy twist I didn’t even ask for. So I did what I always do when everything feels like it’s collapsing internally. I showed up polished. I chose a dress carefully. Nothing body hugging. Nothing that hugged my chest too tightly because I don’t want anyone noticing my bigger boobs. A midi gown with soft flares, structured enough to look intentional, loose enough to hide anything I wasn’t ready to face yet. I did my makeup like muscle memory took over. Skin first. Moisturizer worked in gently, then primer. Foundation light handed. Concealer only where necessary. Brows softly defined not sharp. Blush placed higher than usual to fake health. Lip gloss glossy enough to distract, not loud enough to invite attention. Hair sleek. Controlled.