At his birthday party, I spent the night with the boy next door I'd been chasing for ten years.
When I woke up, he was already getting dressed, eyes cold and full of contempt.
"That was pathetic. Even for you."
I looked at the glass of pure fruit juice sitting on the nightstand and said nothing. No explanation. No defense.
I just gritted my teeth through the soreness, went home, and cut off all contact with him for three full months.
The next time I heard from him, his mother had dragged him to our door asking for a favor.
"This stubborn boy of mine has finally come around. He's talking about getting engaged! Zoe Gilbert, sweetheart, you studied interior design. Would you help decorate the wedding suite?"
I froze mid-step in the kitchen. Soup sloshed over the rim of the pot and scalded my hand.
My mother grabbed my arm, beaming:
"You two actually made it work? I always said my daughter has nothing going for her except shamelessness. Chasing Toby all those years, and it finally paid off! Lucky girl!"
The air in the room curdled. Toby Harding's face went black.
"Zoe, are you seriously spreading rumors? Even if you made up some story about us having a kid, I would never marry you!"
Both mothers went still.
May Harding rushed to smooth things over: "What nonsense are you spouting? Zoe is a perfectly respectable girl. Don't you dare cause a scene!"
She turned and smacked her son's arm, once, twice, three times.
I spoke up at just the right moment. "It's fine, Aunt May. It's just that I can't help with the decorating."
I lowered my head and rested a hand on my stomach. "I'm pregnant. Three months along."
I smiled and added, "And just so the three of you can relax, it's not Toby's."
——
The words hit the room like a thunderclap.
Toby kicked over a stool, teeth clenched so hard the muscles in his jaw twitched.
"You think this is a good time for jokes?"
Under my mother's stunned gaze, I carried a bowl of chicken soup to the table and sat down.
I looked at the fury twisting his face and didn't flinch.
"Not a joke. I'm really pregnant. And it's really not yours."
Then I pulled on an apologetic smile:
"I just found out a few days ago. Haven't had a chance to tell anyone yet. Sorry, Aunt May. You'll have to find someone else."
I stirred the soup and turned to my mother:
"The reason I asked you to get that hen today was to make something nourishing. The doctor said the baby isn't getting enough nutrients."
The silence in the room sank to its lowest point. My mother's eyes turned red, and no words came out.
Aunt May sensed the situation was unraveling. She forced a laugh and pulled Toby toward the door.
His eyes were unreadable as he left, but he still flung one last line over his shoulder.
"Even if it were true, I'd never claim it."
The second they were out the door, my mother slammed her palm on the table.
"I know you've liked that Harding boy for ten years. I don't care how angry you are that he's getting engaged. You don't gamble with your reputation over it! You've never even had a boyfriend. Where did a baby come from?"
I pulled the lab report from my pocket. The words three months pregnant shut her up on the spot.
She closed her eyes, resigned. Then something clicked, and she seized my wrist.
"Wait. I just heard what he said, that even if it were true he'd never claim it. Did something happen between you two? Is this baby his?"
I sipped the chicken soup and muttered:
"Mom. How many times do I have to say it? The baby is not Toby Harding's."
Her hands trembled with frustration.
"Then who is the father? I've never stood in the way of you dating. You're almost thirty! Every time I tried to set you up, you refused. I thought you'd made up your mind that it was Toby or nobody. And instead you..."
She glanced around and dropped her voice:
"Instead you went and got yourself knocked up with no father in the picture!"
A wave of nausea surged up my throat. I stood and poured the soup down the drain.
She was still going. I sighed.
"Can we talk about this when things settle down? He knows I'm pregnant, and he's willing to step up."
My mother followed me, disappointment etched across every line of her face:
