Page 81 of Claimed By My Ex's Dad
“Oh really?” Lila chips in. She tilts her head. “What makes you so sure?”
I really don’t have anything to go by. Valeriancanstill kill me. And he probably will when his guards fill him in on what happened earlier.
“I’m not his main priority at the moment,” I say. “Valerian has his hands full with other stuff. He’s trying to stop his son.” I smooth a piece of hair behind my ear. “Look, this isn’t up for discussion. I shouldn’t have come here. It was a bad idea. The Bratva have eyes and ears everywhere. I’m sure Igor is the same. Please don’t tell anyone about this.”
I turn on my heel to leave, but Lila reaches out and grabs me.
“There’s something you’re not telling us.”
My heart clenches. She’s right. No more lies. If I keep going with them, I’m no different to my father. And I nevereverwanted to associate myself with that man.
I nibble my lip, staring at both of them. “I think I might be pregnant.”
Both of their eyes flare wide again.
“You’re kidding?” Lila drops my arm, her eyes spacing out. I don’t think she’s in the room with us anymore.
“Please don’t make me feel any worse than I already do.”
I’ve never seen Mom look this anxious before. “Who’s the father? Please don’t tell me it’s?—?”
“What difference does it make?” says Lila. “By the sounds of it, they’re both cold blooded murderers.” Lila narrows her eyes. “But it matters to you, Joy. Doesn’t it?”
“Please, let’s not talk about this right now. I’m doing a pregnancy test and going back to Valerian’s place.”
“You’re not going back there,” repeats Mom for the hundredth time. “Negative, positive. It doesn’t make a difference.”
“Let’s focus on one thing at a time.” Lila looks me square in the eyes, ready to tackle all of this at face value. “We need to get you a test.”
The sun will never shine again.
I stare at the two pink lines on the strip and tell myself this test is broken.
I scrub my hands in the bathroom sink. They’re shaking just like the rest of my body. I can’t be pregnant. Motherhood to me always felt more like a horror movie, growing up, seeing moms at the park screaming at their children; seeing the exhaustion written across myownmom’s face.
Add nine months of pregnancy and birth in there and you’ve got yourself the most terrifying movie series, which never comes to an end, not even when your child is fully grown.
I dry my hands on the towel and stare at the test again. I still haven’t showered after running over here. The rainwater is starting to dry, making my clothes smell weird. I should shower and practice some self-care to make myself feel better, but I can’t even take one step forward.
A knock at the door disrupts me from my trance.
“Joy? Are you okay in there?” calls Lila.
“Yeah. I’m coming,” I reply, not even answering her question.
I slide the lock and open the door. She’s standing on the other side of the door. My face says it all. She doesn’t need to look at the strip for confirmation.
“Shit. You’re pregnant,” she states.
I exhale a shaky breath.
“Well, that’s okay.” She lifts her voice, attempting to lighten the mood. “It’s not the end of the world. We can look at abortions. You don’t have to do this alone.”
“I know.” I squeeze her hand. “Thank you.”
But in spite of all the above, I can’t stand the thought of going through an abortion, even though, rationally speaking, it makes perfect sense.
Whatdoesn’tmake sense is how I’m feeling.
