Chapter 40
At the age of six, I dreamed of marrying a prince who would shower me with toys and candy.
By twelve, my fantasy shifted to marrying the lead singer of my favorite band.
At seventeen, I envisioned a future with Marco and three kids.
Recently, I entertained the thought of running away with Zane, maybe even getting married and starting a family.
But then, my reality became being a single mother to Andrea’s child—a child conceived not from love but from a moment of transgression, a constant reminder of the night that ruined my life.
How could I find a way to love this child, knowing they might resemble the man who took advantage of me?
How did I end up here? It didn't seem possible that he could have been so careless.
I recalled his anger, his cursing; perhaps this wasn't how he envisioned things going.
Maybe something happened that wasn't planned.
The session was scheduled far from my period to ensure I wasn't bloated, meaning I was in my ovulation window, and the chances were pretty high. What an irony.
The ride home was filled with my parents’ shouting; I thought it couldn't get worse, yet there I was, facing an unplanned pregnancy. My parents argued about what should happen next: my dad wanted to terminate the pregnancy, while my mom insisted I should take responsibility.
But did anybody ask me what I wanted or how I felt? Hello, I was right here; I could hear you. Was I invisible? Did you care at all? They just assumed… They just assumed…
A bitter smile crossed my face as I imagined how Andrea would react to the idea of taking care of his creation. I could picture my parents’ shock if I revealed the truth to them, and that thought oddly amused me.
Honestly, I felt numb, trapped in a state of disbelief. All I wanted to do was laugh uncontrollably until I lost my breath. My mom was rummaging through the car for water.
“What are you looking for?” my dad asked.
“I need some water,” she replied. My dad’s gaze shifted from her to the pills she clutched in her hand.
“Are you still taking those? I thought you were done,” he said, disbelief etched across his face.
I wanted to shout, “Hey, Mom, did you know what those pills did to me?” But I held my tongue. Not out of fear of judgment or what others might think, but out of love. What would I do for love? What sacrifices would I make?
I adored my parents deeply; my mom had a tender heart, even if she tried to seem tough.
The truth would shatter her; the guilt of not realizing what was happening right in front of her would consume her, and I couldn't bear the thought of that pain.
I wanted to shield her, to protect both of them.
This burden was mine to carry, and I had resolved to bear it alone.
We returned home in the late afternoon, enveloped by an unsettling silence. It felt as if I had to stand by while my future was being dictated without my input—no one asked me what I wanted to do about the pregnancy: keep the baby or terminate it.
As we pulled into the driveway, I spotted Zane leaning against his car, anxiety etched across his features—his eyes dark, fists clenched. My mother, under the influence of pills, seemed indifferent, but I was caught off guard when my father leaped from the car and charged at Zane, throwing a punch.
Zane could have easily dodged it and defended himself, but he didn't; he accepted it, as if he believed he deserved it. I jumped out of the car, yelling “no,” but it was too late.
After all this time, I finally locked eyes with Zane. Memories flooded back—our first touch, our first kiss, the laughter we shared, the warmth of our first embrace. Those moments seemed to be slipping away.
“You did this!” my father shouted, his voice full of fury.
“You've ruined her life!” he roared even louder. Zane looked bewildered, and I felt a wave of dread wash over me—this was not how it was supposed to be. My mother stepped out of the car and stood beside me.
“Zane, please go,” I pleaded, wishing he would heed my words. There was still a chance for us to escape this mess, to start anew, just as we had imagined.
I thought back to that night in Rome when he had asked me to move to New York with him after graduation.
“Let's live life on our own terms,” he had said.
“It doesn't matter if we sleep on a floor in a basement or share an apartment with a bunch of other people.
What matters is that we're together, and together we can conquer the world.
It might be tough at first, but I know we'll make it.
One day, we'll get married and have a bunch of red-haired kids with big blue eyes like yours.
We'll be happy, just you and me, body and soul, forever.”
I desperately wanted that dream to be my reality. But that hope shattered when my mother slowly approached Zane and said,
“This is all your fault. She made all the wrong choices because of you. And now she's pregnant because of you. Congratulations on ruining both of your lives.”
I felt encased in ice, watching Zane’s response. I had never seen that look on him before—disbelief, disappointment, disgust. He stumbled back, leaning against his car, speechless.
I was losing him.
He climbed into his car and started the engine. In a moment of panic, I dashed toward him, calling his name, but he didn't stop; he drove away. I ran after his car, liquid pearls rolling down my cheeks, but he only got further away until all that was left was the dust swirling in the air.
My father sprinted after me, grabbing my arm and pulling me back toward the house. I protested, but he didn't relent. My mother approached us, and we halted when we met.
“Get inside the house!” she commanded, pointing sternly.
“No, I need to talk to Zane!” I retorted.
“Listen, young lady, you're forgetting your place. You're not talking to anyone. Get inside now,” my father ordered.
“No,” I shot back sharply, turning to walk away. My mother grabbed my arm tightly.
“Don't you dare walk away!” she hissed.
“Or what? You'll confine me to my room for life, forcing me to raise a child I don't want?” I yelled, my anger boiling over.
Had it not been for the drugs, she might have dragged me back inside against my will, but instead, she said, “If you leave now, you might as well not come back.
I've lost you; I don't have a daughter anymore.” My father, stunned by the harshness of her words, looked at her in shock.
Her words pierced me deeply, even though I knew she didn't truly mean it—just anger talking. The bond between a mother and child was the most profound and genuine feeling, but pride could build an impenetrable wall that could last even longer than I could imagine.
I remained silent and walked away, ignoring her curses. I needed to get as far away as possible. I had to find Zane; I couldn't bear to think about what he was feeling. But how? Walking wasn't feasible; there were no buses running at this hour.
Desperation pushed me to explore every option available, so without hesitation, I called the only person who could help at that moment, Marco. Within just five minutes, he arrived at the end of the street.
I got in; tears streamed down my face, making it difficult for him to grasp the urgency of my situation. I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I couldn't contain my sobs. He attempted to soothe me, but my distress was relentless.
Then, in that moment of turmoil, Marco wrapped his arms around me and reassured me that everything would be alright.
That simple gesture was all I craved during the past weeks. I wished to linger in that embrace, feeling safe, but the need to find Zane loomed over me. I kept the details to myself, and Marco, sensing my need for privacy, didn't pry. He readily offered his help.
My first hope was that Zane had returned home, so we headed there first. When we arrived, V opened the door in surprise, but Zane was nowhere to be found, and she had no idea where he might be.
Next, we ventured to the gym, but again, he was absent. My heart raced with anxiety like a caged wild animal, as each passing moment brought no sign of him. We also checked a friend's house that Zane had once taken me to, but it yielded no results.
I tried calling him repeatedly, only to find his phone switched off. I asked V to attempt reaching out to him as well and to keep me updated if he returned.
I was at a loss; Marco kept asking where we should go next, but my mind was a blur.
I felt like I was losing my grip on reality.
Just then, a glimmer of hope flickered as my phone buzzed.
It was V, letting me know that he had just returned and locked himself in his room. A wave of relief washed over me.
When we got to the apartment, I urged Marco to leave, insisting I would be fine. He stubbornly refused to budge. I didn't have the energy to argue, so I simply thanked him and made my way toward the apartment door. I rang the bell, but no one answered, so I knocked, and finally, V opened up.
“I need to speak with Zane,” I said, urgency lacing my voice.
“Go ahead, but I doubt you'll get through to him. What happened between you two?” V stepped aside, her concern evident as she motioned for me to come in. I scanned the room, but his father was nowhere in sight. Cautiously, I made my way upstairs and knocked on Zane’s door.
“Zane, it's me. Can we talk?” I struggled to get the words out, a knot in my throat choking me. Silence met my plea.
“Zane, please. I need to explain. It's not what you think,” I begged, desperate to share everything, no matter the cost. I sank to my knees, my hand resting against the door, tears streaming down my face. Even after all this time, I still had so many tears to shed.