~Chapter 13~
The air outside is colder than I expected.
We leave the mall without saying much, and the difference between the noise inside and the silence outside hits me instantly. It’s like everything becomes more real.
Too real.
I pull my hoodie tighter around me and follow Samuel to the car.
My steps are slower now, not from fatigue…
but because I know what’s coming.
I can’t put it off any longer.
Samuel unlocks the car with a quick gesture and opens the right door for me, without saying anything.
I look at him for a second.
“You don’t have to do this every time,” he murmurs.
“I know,” he replies simply.
But he doesn’t move until I get in.
I sigh softly and get in, dropping into the seat. I close my eyes for a second, resting my head on the headrest.
The door closes.
Then the other one.
The engine starts.
And the silence between us returns.
For a few minutes we don’t say anything.
Samuel drives intently, his hands steady on the wheel, his gaze fixed ahead.
The city lights reflect on the window, passing quickly, one after the other.
I look out the window.
But I see nothing.
Just thoughts.
“You’re really going to tell them today,” Samuel says, not looking at me.
It’s not a question.
I swallow hard.
“Yes.”
My voice comes out lower than I intended.
He nods once.
“Okay.” That’s it.
I tighten my fingers in my sleeves.
“It doesn’t feel ‘okay’…
” he murmurs.
Samuel exhales slowly.
“It’s not okay,” he says honestly.
“But it’s right.”
I bite my lip and turn my head back to the window.
“They’ll think I ruined my life…”
“They’ll think a lot of things,” he answers calmly.
“But that doesn’t mean they’re right.”
Silence.
The car slows down at a traffic light.
The red light stops us, and for a few seconds everything stands still.
Just like me.
“What if…” I start, but I stop.
Samuel turns his head slightly toward me.
“What if?”
I lick my lips.
“What if he reacts worse than I think?”
He looks at me for a few seconds.
Seriously. Analytical.
“Then we’ll get through it,” he says simply.
“We?” I ask without thinking.
The corner of his mouth moves barely perceptibly.
“Yes. We.”
The light turns green.
The car starts again.
I feel something in my chest relax…
a little.
Not completely.
But enough so I can breathe.
A few more minutes pass in silence.
Then I lean my head back and close my eyes.
“After them…” I say softly.
Samuel doesn’t ask what I mean.
“I have to tell him too.”
This time, he’s silent for a few seconds.
“Not today,” I add immediately.
“I know,” he says.
I open my eyes and look straight ahead.
“I’m not ready for this yet.”
Samuel nods.
“You don’t have to be.”
I look at him.
“But you will have to.”
“Yes,” he says simply.
No evasions.
Without shielding me from the truth.
And, strangely… that helps me more than anything.
I lean my head back on the headrest.
I take a deep breath.
I exhale slowly.
“One step at a time…” I mutter.
“Exactly,” Samuel confirms.
The car moves forward through the city, and in the distance… the neighborhood begins to take shape.
The house.
The problem.
The truth.
Everything is waiting for me there.
When Samuel parks the car and gets out, I'm still standing.
Something is holding me back.
Maybe a bad feeling.
Maybe it's going to be a bad idea.
But...I have to.
I have to do this...
Samuel comes to my side and opens the door for me.
"Aren't you coming?" he asks and I mumble as I get out of the car.
I stand straight but I know I'm not as straight as before.
Not as confident.
Not like before.
Samuel closes the door behind me without saying anything.
He stays next to me for a second.
He looks at me.
Not insistently. Not pressuringly. Just…
checking.
"Are you ready?" he asks.
The question hits me harder than it should.
Because I know the answer. No. I'm not.
I look down at the asphalt.
"No..." I admit slowly.
Quiet.
I expect him to say something, to push me, to insist.
But he doesn't.
Samuel just nods.
"Okay," he says simply.
I blink.
"Okay?
" I repeat, slightly lost.
"You don't have to be ready," he adds calmly.
“You just have to come in.”
I let out a short gasp.
“It sounds… just as bad.”
The corner of his mouth twitches just barely.
“It is.”
I tuck my hands into the sleeves of my sweatshirt.
“What if I screw up?” I ask quietly.
Samuel doesn’t answer right away.
He takes a step closer to me.
“Then you screw up,” he says bluntly.
“And we’ll move on.”
I look at him.
“‘We’ll’?
” I repeat.
“Yes,” he says without hesitation.
I take a deeper breath.
It’s still not enough.
But it’s… something.
Samuel looks at the door of the house for a second, then back at me.
“Do you want me to come in with you, or are you waiting for me to call you?” he asks.
The question freezes me for a split second.
I hadn’t thought about that.
I look at the door again.
Then at him.
“Come in with me,”
I say, more slowly than I meant to.
Samuel nods.
“Okay.”
Don’t say anything else.
Don’t rush me.
Don’t touch me.
Just stay next to me.
I take a step forward.
Then another.
The alley seems longer than usual.
Each step sounds too loud.
Each second stretches.
I reach the door.
My hand trembles slightly as I lift it.
I stop.
I breathe.
Once more.
“One step at a time…” I mutter.
“Exactly,” Samuel says behind me.
I close my eyes for a split second.
Then…
I turn the doorknob.
Samuel enters first and pushes the door open wider.
“We’re home!” he shouts.
I jump instantly and look at him, ready to punch him.
“Are you crazy?” I whisper through my teeth.
He shrugs slightly.
“Sorry,” he says, with a small smile that doesn’t seem at all guilty.
I roll my eyes, but I don’t have time to say anything else.
From the kitchen, dishes are clinking softly.
Freeze.
Mom.
I feel my stomach tighten again.
Samuel notices immediately.
He doesn't say anything, but he moves a little closer to me.
It's just there.
Footsteps.
They can be heard from the kitchen towards the hallway.
"Are you here?" her voice appears before her.
Normal. Calm.
As if I'm not going to tell her that my world has just been turned upside down.
I swallow hard.
Samuel clears his voice slightly.
"Yes," he answers simply.
Mom appears in the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel.
She stops when she sees me.
"Idris?
" she says, slightly alert now. "Are you okay?
"
I open my mouth.
Nothing.
The words don't come out.
I just look at her.
Samuel shifts his gaze to me for a second.
Then back to her.
“Can we talk for a moment?” he says.
Directly.
No detours.
Mom frowns slightly.
“Did something happen?”
Quietly.
I feel my heart pounding in my throat.
Now.
Now is the time.
Take a deep breath.
“Yes…” I finally say.
My voice shakes a little.
“I need to tell you something,” I say “...and to my dad,” I murmur and she nods and motions for us to go to the table.
I follow Samuel and he seems calmer than I am and I understand him... I’m the one carrying a child in my womb, not him.
Perfect.
We sit down at the table and Mom leaves and I think she’s telling her dad to come to lunch.
Dad appears in the kitchen doorway, his glasses pushed back on his head, as he usually does when he’s interrupted by something important.
His gaze quickly sweeps across the table, over me, over Samuel.
He stops at me for a split second longer.
And then I see him.
Not “dad.” On beta.
It’s the same thing… but not quite.
His shoulders are straight, too straight.
His jaw is set, as if he’s already preparing for something.
His gaze, fixed, heavy, the kind of gaze that makes you want to tell the truth even when you’re not ready.
That’s how he is when things get serious.
When it’s not just family anymore. When it’s…
responsibility.
I swallow hard.
For a moment, my mind involuntarily runs to Samuel.
The way he sits next to me now. Calm. Steady.
But different.
I hope… I hope he never ends up like this. So stiff. So hard to read. So… distant.
Because right now, my father’s gaze makes me feel small.
Smaller than I already am.
“What happened?” he asks, directly, without preamble.
His voice is low. Controlled.
Exactly as I expected.
I clasp my hands under the table. I can feel my palms sweating.
Samuel doesn’t say anything this time.
He just stays next to me.
He waits.
Me.
He takes a deep breath. The air doesn’t seem to be enough.
“I…” I start, but my voice chokes.
Dad doesn’t interrupt me. Neither does Mom.
Nor does Samuel.
Everyone waits.
I look up.
I look straight at him, though my instinct is to avoid him.
“I… I need to tell you something important,” I say, more clearly this time.
My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure it’s audible.
I pause for a second. Then another.
I can’t back down now.
“I’m going to…” I swallow hard. “You’re going to have a grandchild.
”
The words come out faster than I expected.
And then…
silence.
“I…thought he didn’t…he said he used…
” I try to continue, but the words keep breaking apart
The silence that follows isn’t silence.
It’s tension.
My mother blinks a few times, as if trying to process.
My father… doesn’t blink at all.
His gaze remains fixed on me.
Heavy. Oppressive.
“Repeat,” he says, slowly.
I swallow hard.
“I’m…pregnant" I say more clearly this time, though my voice is shaking. “Almost four weeks.”
My mother puts her hand to her mouth.
“Oh my God…” she whispers, mostly for her.
Dad doesn’t react right away.
But I see him.
His jaw tightens even more.
His fingers clench on the edge of the table.
“Who,” he finally says, “is it?”
The question falls directly. No detours.
I lower my gaze for a second.
Samuel moves slightly next to me.
Without saying anything, he takes out the folder and places the ultrasound on the table, pushing it slightly toward the middle.
The paper slides slowly across the wood.
The sound is small. But it seems far too loud in that silence.
My father’s gaze falls on her immediately.
Then my mother looks over too.
Reality becomes…
concrete.
It’s no longer just a poorly said sentence.
It’s there. In front of them.
“He doesn’t know,” I say quietly.
Dad frowns suddenly.
“He doesn’t know?
” he repeats, his tone rising a little. “You mean you come here and tell me you’re going to have a baby…
and the father doesn’t know?”
“I’ll tell him,” I say quickly.
“But not today.”
“Not today?” his voice becomes sharper.
“But when? After the baby is born?”
“That’s not it.
.”
“So what’s it like, Idris?” he interrupts me.
Quiet.
I feel my stomach tighten.
Mom looks between us, clearly uneasy.
“Maybe I should..”
“No,” Dad says shortly, never taking his eyes off me.
“I want to know who ‘my child’ had a child with.”
The words hit.
I take a deep breath.
“It’s… complicated.
”
Dad laughs briefly.
No trace of humor.
“No. It’s not complicated,” he says.
“You tell me who he is. What pack. And we’ll figure it out.
”
There.
Something breaks there.
I look up.
“I don’t know,” I say.
There’s silence again.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” he asks quietly.
Too quietly.
“I don’t know what pack he’s from,” I explain, faster now.
“I just know he’s…Alpha in the making. ”
Wrong.
I see it right away.
My father’s gaze changes.
Completely.
“Alpha,” he repeats, this time with a clear tension in his voice.
His chair shifts suddenly on the floor as he stands up.
My mother flinches.
I freeze.
“Perfect,” he says, running a hand through his hair.
“Perfect, Idris. Just what was missing.”
“Dad..”
“No,” he stops me immediately, holding up a hand.
“Not now.”
His breathing is heavier now.
He’s no longer calm.
He’s no longer in control.
“An Alpha,” he repeats, more for himself.
“And you know nothing about him.”
I don’t know what to say.
There’s nothing that can fix this.
My father looks at me once more.
This time… not just hard.
Disappointed.
Then he looks away and takes a step back from the table.
“An Alpha with a poor Beta like you…” he says shortly.
And he leaves.
The door closes harder than it should.
There is silence.
Mom slowly lowers her hand from her mouth, still shocked.
I… don’t move.
Samuel is the only one who remains the same.
Stable.
Next to me.
But now… the silence is unbearable.
I look at my mom, flustered, and she’s picked up the scan, staring at it as if trying to make sense of what she’s seeing.
Her fingers tremble slightly as she touches the edges of the paper.
She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.
She just stares.
Then she takes a deep breath, as if she’s only now allowing herself to react.
“It’s… real…” she whispers, more for her than for us.
I feel my throat tighten.
“Yes,” I say softly.
She looks up at me. Her eyes are different now.
Not just shocked… but filled with something I can’t quite read.
Fear? Worry? Maybe both.
“How long have you known?” she asks, more gently.
“2 weeks. But today I found out for sure,” I reply.
She nods slowly, then looks back at the scan.
“Are you… okay?”
The question strikes me differently than all the others.
It’s not about the situation. It’s about me.
I hesitate.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
And it’s the most honest thing I’ve said tonight.
Mom places the ultrasound on the table, carefully, as if it’s something fragile.
Then she moves a little closer.
Not very far.
She doesn’t hug me.
But she doesn’t pull away either.
“You’re my child,” she says softly. “That doesn’t change.
”
I feel my knees go weak for a split second.
It’s not complete acceptance.
It’s not “everything’s going to be okay.
”
But… it’s not rejection either.
And for now, that’s enough.
Samuel moves slightly next to me.
I feel his presence without looking at him.
“We’re going to need time,” my mother adds, more for her now. “All of us.”
I nod… I don’t feel like I’m completely suffocating anymore.
Only halfway.
And, strangely… it feels like progress.
My mother pulls away from me and sits down, calmer, more mature now. Her movements are slower but more sure, as if she’s trying to cling to something normal
“Let’s eat. The food’s getting cold,” she murmurs and starts eating the stir-fried vegetables with chicken schnitzel.
Sounds… normal.
I pick up the fork, but I only hold it between my fingers for a few seconds.
I don’t feel like eating. My stomach is still tight, but…
at least I don’t feel like I’m completely suffocating anymore.
Samuel sits down next to me without saying anything.
She places her hand on the table, close to mine, without touching me.
But it’s there. And that’s enough.
My mother takes a small sip, then another.
She avoids looking directly at me for a few moments, but her gaze occasionally darts to the ultrasound, left between us.
Like a third presence.
“You’re going to have to go to the doctor,” she says after a while, her tone more practical now.
“To see you… to make sure everything’s okay.
”
I nod. “I was,” I say softly. “That’s why… we have this.”
Her gaze falls back on the ultrasound. She nods, more for her own good.
The silence is no longer oppressive like before.
But it’s not comfortable either.
It’s…
working.
I force a sip. The taste doesn’t even matter.
It all still feels a little surreal.
“Are you going to tell him?” my mother asks, without looking up.
I know who she’s referring to.
I take a deep breath.
“Yes… but not now.”
She nods. Not completely approving. But she doesn’t comment further either.
Progress.
Samuel moves his hand slightly and this time his fingers touch my sleeve for a second. Briefly. Discreetly.
But it anchors me.
---
I'm in bed now, watching some documentary and trying to distract myself from the stomachache I'm having.
Door opens
I start slightly, but I don't turn around right away.
I hear footsteps in the room. Heavy.
Sure. Unhurried.
He doesn't say anything at first.
He just walks in.
I look up slowly.
Dad.
He stands in the doorway for a few seconds, looking at me as if trying to decide something.
His jaw is still tense, but not like before.
There's no more explosion at the table.
It's different now.
Cooler. More controlled.
He shifts his gaze to my bed, then back to me.
"How are you feeling?" he asks, curtly.
His voice lacks the warmth… but neither does the anger from earlier.
I swallow hard.
“Okay…” I lie, automatically.
He doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t comment either.
For a second, he looks down, as if deciding what to do with his hands.
Then he picks up a small paper bag I hadn’t noticed.
He places it on the edge of the bed.
“Strawberries,” he says simply. “Your mother said you wanted these and asked me to bring them to you..”
That’s it.
I look at the bag, then at him.
I don’t know what to say.
“I shouldn’t have…” I mumble.
“I should have,” he replies immediately.
Quiet.
He sits on the edge of the chair in the living room, but he doesn’t relax.
He sits straight, like at a table. As if he’s still in an unfinished conversation.
He avoids my gaze for a few seconds, then raises it to me again.
“Is your stomach ache from stress?” he asks and puts a hand to his temple
I swallow.
“Probably…”
He nods slightly, as if confirming something to himself.
“You have to take care of yourself,” he says after a pause.
It doesn’t sound like a request. It sounds like a rule.
I squeeze my hands in my sleeve.
“I know…”
Another pause.
The tension is still there. Underneath every word.
He then stands up, as if to leave, but stops by the door.
He looks at me one last time.
“Eat something,” he says, more quietly than before.
Then he leaves.
The door closes quietly.
But the room is not the same anymore.
I’m left staring at the bag of strawberries I asked my mother for downstairs.
I reach for it and open the bag, stick my fingers in it and pull out a large strawberry that’s already washed. I bring it to my mouth and bite into it.
I feel something different...like "maybe all is not lost after all".
And I relax in bed.
I hope it's true