Her Resolve のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 40

Happy New Year!!!!!Andre POV (From the night of the pregnancy reveal.) “I'm pregnant.” Hearing those words from this strange woman that I don't remember ever having an encounter with hit me like a blow. All I could think about in that moment was Lauren. “That's not true! What is all this nonsense you're spewing?” I yelled, feeling anger bubbling in my chest. She went to pick up her bag and was searching for something. It seemed like she had found it because she tossed a piece of paper at me “That's the test results. Checked yesterday and I'm seven weeks gone. I haven't been with anyone since the night of your fake ass wedding and the night of your friend's club opening which was less than two months ago. Does that ring a bell?” she said, folding her arms on her chest, tapping her feet on the cold tiles like she was preparing for war, which she probably was. That did ring a bell. But it still does not mean I'm the father of the thing in her belly. I always use protection and h

Lauren POV The world outside my bedroom door continued to spin, oblivious to the storm raging within my heart. Days blurred into nights, each one a relentless cycle of tears and silent agony. The plush, once inviting, of my bed now felt like a cage, its soft embrace a cruel reminder of my isolation. I had retreated, a wounded animal seeking refuge in the deepest, darkest corner. The news had hit me like a physical blow, stealing my breath, my joy, my very sense of self. Now, I was left with the hollow echo of what could have been, the phantom weight of a future that had been irrevocably altered. My reflection in the mirror was a stranger, a ghost of the woman I once was. My eyes, once bright with laughter and ambition, were now swollen and red-rimmed, reflecting the endless river of tears that had become my constant companion. My skin, once radiant, was now pale and drawn, a testament to the food I refused to eat and the sunlight I shunned. Grace has come a few times, her gentle k

Lauren POV I stirred in my sleep slowly waking up. I squinted against the sunlight, which had found its way into the room through the closed curtains and was shining directly in my face. That woke me up fully. I sat up yawning and stretching when I finally realized I wasn't alone. Dre was here, arms around my waist, holding me like he was scared I was going to leave him. My heart tugged and melted at the same time from this sight, taking me back to the conversation from last night before we fell asleep. I looked away and sighed. This man. With the arrival of dawn, it appears that my strength was back. I was feeling better than I had in the past few days. The crazy bang in my head was gone now, to felt physically stronger and the best part of it, I felt hungry. In fact, I was starving. I checked the small alarm clock by my bedside table and the time said 6:30. That's such an odd time to be starving. Anyway…… I'm hungry and I need to eat, but first, I’ve got to pee! As

Lauren POV It took me an hour to get myself back. I sat on the rug-covered floor, taking deep breaths. My wails were non-stop for the first thirty minutes making the deep breathing exercise seem ineffective but I continued taking them as that was all I could think of doing. With time, my tears stopped, my breathing now regulated. I sat there, my mind blank. I just decided not to think. I just let myself………..not think. Shortly after, I was ready for bed. Face wiped clean, in fresh pajamas. I had requested that my dinner be brought upstairs. Mom had come to check on me before going back to her house, to make sure I was fine at least. I assured her that I was okay. I had come to realize that there was nothing I could do about anything. Crying, starving, isolation, all of that did not change anything and it would never change a thing so what is the point? If anything, it is a time thief. I did not notice how much time I had wasted on this whole drama till I finally opened my

Lauren POV The rest of the morning passed in a strange, suspended quiet. No one asked questions anymore. No one joked. Machines hummed, scissors whispered through fabric, and the studio worked the way it always did, but without its heartbeat. I retreated to my office, closing the glass door behind me like I needed the barrier to hold me together. For a long moment, I just stood there, hands braced on the desk, staring at nothing. Then I sat, opened my planner, and began doing the one thing I still knew how to do: organize chaos. I crossed out dates with decisive strokes. The fashion show timeline disappeared first, venue confirmations, model fittings, press previews—each line a small funeral. I moved budgets around, reallocated funds meant for lighting and runway construction into safer, quieter columns. Studio upkeep. Staff salaries. Emergency reserves. I checked emails I’d been avoiding all week: congratulations that now felt cruel, inquiries that assumed momentum I no longe