All Chapters of Honeymoon From Hell: Who Knocked Her Up?: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

On the way to the hotel, Chester handed me a thermos flask. "Here, Jasmine. Have some warm water."I didn't take the flask from him.Yvette was in the RV's backseat, leaning back with her eyes closed and her hands over her stomach.Shawn sat next to her. Although there was a fist-sized gap between them, his body was angled slightly toward her.I sat in the middle row of seats alone.The driver in the front seat turned up the air conditioning by two degrees.Nobody said a word.By the time we arrived at the island's hotel, it was 9:00 pm. The front desk had prepared two rooms for us—a honeymoon suite and a standard room, both of which Shawn had booked before departure.The honeymoon suite had been intended for him and me, while the standard room was for Yvette. Back then, Chester had declared that he'd sleep anywhere, so he ended up snagging an empty room next to Yvette's.We now stood at the front desk with three room keys on the table before us.Shawn picked up the key to th

Shawn sent me a text message at noon."Jasmine, Yvette says that she feels like having a mango smoothie. Is there any shop nearby that sells it?"I'd been sitting on the couch in the hotel lobby all morning, so my phone was running out of battery. I didn't send Shawn a reply.Ten minutes later, he sent me another text."Where are you? Don't just run off on your own."Five minutes after that, Chester called me and asked, "Where have you gone, Jasmine? The hotel receptionist told me that you haven't returned to your room since morning.""I'm in the lobby," I replied simply."Come on upstairs. Yvette's not looking too well and has been asking to see you."I went upstairs.When I opened the door to the honeymoon suite, I saw Yvette half-lying on a large bed strewn with rose petals. The petals, which hadn't been cleared away, dotted the white bedding with spots of red.Yvette was leaning against a pillow with a pregnancy guidebook open in front of her. I had no idea how she'd even

"Jasmine Shea, you once said that when you grew up, you would buy a house in Sudenford, raise a pet cat, and cover the balcony in jasmines," said Myles Pereira.He stood under a street lamp with a broken steel pipe in his hand. He was wearing a gray hoodie, and there was an angry red scratch left by a fingernail on his face.In the alley behind him, I could see a figure running in the opposite direction, splashing noisily through water puddles.I was crouched in a corner, weak at the knees. The strap of my backpack was sliding off my shoulder.Three minutes ago, someone started stalking me from the convenience store and followed me down two whole streets. When I noticed them, I started running but tripped over a trash can after running into this alley.Just as that person grabbed onto my bag strap, Myles rushed out and struck them in the forearm with a steel pipe. The stranger had let out a scream before turning and running.Now, Myles was crouched in front of me. He placed the s

"Congratulations, Ms. Shea. Your proposal has been approved."When the client's representative stood up to shake hands with me, several of my colleagues in the conference room applauded.This was the first project I'd been placed in charge of since joining a new company—a comprehensive proposal for a small cultural and creative brand.It wasn't a major project, but I'd followed up on it myself from the initial proposal to the final execution stage.Back when I worked at Shawn's company, my proposals would all eventually be credited to someone else. According to Shawn, it was just industry practice, but there were no such practices here at my new company.When it was time to clock out, I saw Myles' car parked downstairs at the company entrance.He rolled down the window and asked, "How about we celebrate a little?""How did you know my proposal was approved?" I asked in return.He replied casually, "You posted a picture of a mocha on your timeline, and you only drink that when y

When Myles got down on one knee on my balcony, it wasn't a diamond ring but a new pot of jasmines that he was holding."Jasmine Shea, will you marry me?" he asked.The flowerpot was a size larger than mine and contained four to five blooming snow-white jasmines.I was standing at the doorway to the balcony. I still had an apron tied to my waist, and my gumbo was still stewing in its pot."You're proposing without even preparing a wedding ring?" I asked him."I did prepare one."Myles dug around in the flowerpot's soil and produced a small mud-caked box, which he then opened.Inside the box was a very thin and simple silver ring that had no gems inlaid in it."I was afraid that you'd refuse it if I bought you something too expensive," he explained."You understand me pretty well."He looked up at me. His knees were covered with dust from kneeling on the balcony."You haven't given me an answer," he said.My gumbo bubbled on the stove in the kitchen.The scent of jasmines an