Lahat ng Kabanata ng Pregnant by my Ex-Boyfriend’s Father: Kabanata 51 - Kabanata 60

He stood, collected his pen like a man gathering small truths.“If you come to my office to discuss personal matters, your appointment will be terminated. Understood?”Cold. Controlled. Final.I walked away with my eyes burning. I hid the tears until I reached my chair.I sat at my workstation. There was a slight scrape on the left arm of the chair, a mark from when I knocked my elbow last week. It was a detail I had never noticed before, but now it felt intimate, intrusive, like the room was paying attention to my weakness. I shoved the thought aside and focused on the screen. Spreadsheets. Draft emails. Cold, obedient lines of text. For an hour, they worked like a shield.Then Tom found me in the lunch area.“Gurll, my girl wants to meet you,” he said, eyes bright over his cinnamon tiramisu. “She says you sound chill. I already gave her your number.”I lifted my own tiramisu and used the spoon like armor. I said okay because what else was I supposed to say? He talked about how sweet

The moment I saw him, something in the air shifted—wrong, heavy, familiar in a way I did not want. So I ignored him and kept walking, dragging my suitcase behind me like it was the last piece of my dignity.“Aria,” he called. Not loud, not soft. Just certain. “I’m here for you.”I didn’t stop. “For what exactly?”“I know I’ve hurt you. More than I should have. But please… listen to me, my love.”My love.The words hit me like a slap and a bandage at the same time. How? How dare he? My throat tightened instantly, and before I could swallow it down, tears spilled over. Embarrassing. Uncontrolled. Betraying me.I whispered, “Let’s leave here. People are staring.”I didn’t wait for his answer. I just walked toward the VIP lounge, the quiet area no one ever really used. He followed behind me like a shadow that refused to detach.When we sat, my chest was still rising too fast. “Okay,” I said. “What’s all this? Because don’t think I’m crying because of you. And don’t think I’m falling for w

The moment he said it, something in me snapped. “So this is what we are now,” Alexander asked quietly, like he already knew the answer but wanted to torture himself with the sound of it. I folded my arms. “What should we be?” He looked down at his hands, exhaled, then met my eyes again. “Aria, I am sorry about everything. I messed up the one thing that ever felt right in my life. I should have protected you from all of this. I should have handled things differently. I should have… been a better man.” His voice cracked on the last line, but I refused to soften. “We are over,” I said, the words cold but trembling. He stared at me like I had slapped him. “How can we be over when you are pregnant with my child?” My face shifted instantly. Not fear. Not guilt. Pure disbelief. “What do you mean?” I asked slowly. “Which child?” He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. “There is no evidence you were my one night stand. So all these claims you are making are null and void. And

I continued posting on LinkedIn. Not because I suddenly feel inspired or brilliant or healed, but because I promised myself I would not disappear from the world just because a man disappointed me. So every morning, after brushing my teeth and forcing down the prenatal vitamins that taste like someone blended sand and sadness together, I open LinkedIn and dump one of my old works there. An old story snippet. An old micro fiction. An old copywriting idea I once thought was genius. Now I just hit post, lock my phone and pray I never have to look at the engagement. Most of the time it is zero likes. Maybe one accidental view. Sometimes two likes and one is my former classmate who likes everything I post just so I will not quit. I do not even feel embarrassed. I am too tired to feel embarrassed. At least the page is not empty. At least I am doing something. I try to write new things but every idea comes out crooked. One day I open my notes and try to write about a g

Weird, but fine.They send a time and location.Two in the afternoon.The same time Tracy is leaving for her flight.The sadness hits me hard because I want to escort her. I want to squeeze out the last moments before she goes back to her own life.I tell her I will reschedule the meeting. She looks at me like I said something offensive.“Aria, do not you dare,” she says. “Go. I will be fine. I wish I could stay longer but I am proud of you for starting something new.”I nod. My throat tightens. We start packing properly around ten. Tracy is everywhere at once. She is brushing her teeth while shouting from the bathroom, “Aria, did you see my black scarf? The one that makes me look like a mysterious widow?”Then she comes out with toothpaste foam on her mouth, rummages through her makeup bag like she is mining gold, tosses two wigs on the bed, then pauses to admire one in the mirror.“This one makes me look expensive even when I am broke,” she says and throws it into her luggage.I ro