PREGNANT VIRGIN

CHAPTER 3: DISGUSTED

I turned back abruptly, my eyes locking on the figure who had just interrupted me.

He stared coldly at me, and in that instant, I remembered him. He was the man who had rudely asked me if I was blind yesterday at the hospital entrance.

"Mr. Morrison, sir," Dr. Matthew stuttered, his voice shaking. "We didn't know you were still—"

Mr. Morrison ignored him completely. He walked gracefully and sat in the chair like he owned the place. Which, I was about to learn, he actually did.

I smirked at him and wiped my tears. Rage burned through me like fire.

"Hey, you see me?" I pointed my finger angrily at him. "I don't care why you keep stalking me. But let me be clear with you—this is none of your business! Don't go around poking your nose where you are not wanted!"

He didn't even flinch, it was as if my words made no single impact on him, he Just watched me with those empty eyes.

I turned back to Dr. Nike, my voice rising. "You had better pray to God I'm not pregnant! If I am, I will have an abortion and I will have you sued in court! Do you hear me? Sued!"

I grabbed my bag and turned to dash out of the room.

"And who said you can go?" Mr. Morrison's voice cut through the air like ice.

I stopped abruptly. My hand froze on the door handle. I turned and gave him a deadly glare.

Dr. Matthew finally found his voice. He cleared his throat nervously. "Miss Joan, please calm down. I know how this feels to you. We promise it wasn't intentional." He pointed a trembling hand at Mr. Morrison. "This is Mr. Morrison, the owner of our fertility clinic and—"

I cut him off sharply. "Hold it right there!" I laughed bitterly. "So this is your so-called boss? No wonder you made a terrible mistake with me. Because—"

"Miss Joan, please calm down," Dr. Nike tried again, his voice weak.

Dr. Matthew spoke quickly, desperation in his tone. "Please just know that you cannot have an abortion without the consent of the father. And since the father is known..."

My heart stopped a bit.

"The father is known?" I repeated. "What do you mean the father is known? I don't even know the father!"

I smirked and looked at them, rage and confusion mixing inside me. "I don't know the father and I don't care to know him!"

Dr. Matthew swallowed hard. He looked at Mr. Morrison, then back at me. "Mr. Morrison here... he is the father. He's the owner of the semen that was mistakenly inserted into you."

The room went dead silent.

I stared at him. Then at Mr. Morrison. Then back at Dr. Matthew.

"You... you say what?" My voice came out small and broken.

Mr. Morrison didn't even move an inch from where he was sitting, instead he kept staring at me with disdain.

My head started spinning. My legs felt weak. "This gives me even more reason to want an abortion!" I screamed, my voice echoing off the walls. "I cannot have a stranger's baby! And not just any stranger—this arrogant stranger! No! It's not possible!"

Tears streamed down my face. My whole body shook.

"Why is my whole world falling apart?" I cried, looking up at the ceiling like God might answer me. "First a terrible breakup! Now there's a possibility I might be pregnant with this man's child! What is all this? Am I cursed?"

My head spun badly. The room tilted. The faces of the doctors blurred. Mr. Morrison's cold eyes swam before me.

I couldn't hold myself anymore.

My legs gave way. My bag fell from my hand. I crashed to the floor, and darkness swallowed me whole.

When I opened my eyes, I was lying on a hospital bed. A machine beeped softly beside me. My head ached. My throat burned.

And sitting in the corner, watching me like a hawk, was Mr. Morrison.

"You're awake," he said simply.

I turned my face away from him. "Leave me alone."

"I can't do that."

I looked back at him, fresh tears threatening to fall. "Why not?"

He stood up and walked slowly to my bedside. For the first time, his cold eyes softened—just a little before it turned cold again.

"Because if you're pregnant," he said quietly, "that child is mine. And I don't abandon what belongs to me."

I stared at him, confusion and anger mixing in my chest. "I don't want anything from you. I don't even know you and I don't care to know you!"

He sat down in the chair beside my bed. "Then let's fix that. My name is Donovan Morrison. I'm thirty-two years old. I own this clinic with other properties and companies you will get to find out on your own. And I want to know the woman who might be carrying my child."

I laughed bitterly. "You mean the woman your clinic violated?"

He just nodded. "Yes. That woman."

I closed my eyes, exhaustion washing over me. "Just go away."

"I'm not interested in knowing you," I simply said as I looked at the ceiling while tears dropped down my face.

I cleared my throat and spoke firmly. "If in six days it's proven that I'm pregnant, I will have an abortion. And that's final."

The moment I said those words, his face changed instantly.

His eyes darkened. His jaw tightened.

"Listen, Joan," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You are not permitted to hurt my child. I will not sign for an abortion. Do you understand me? I will not."

I turned my face away from him. I didn't have the strength to argue. My body was weak. My heart was broken. My mind was exhausted.

He stared at me for a long moment, waiting for me to respond. When I didn't, he let out a sharp breath, turned around, and walked out of my ward in anger.

The door closed behind him.

I was alone again.

I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts spinning. I knew he wouldn't be easy to deal with. He has money. He has power. And me? I'm just nobody. Poor. Alone. Even if we go to court, there's every possibility he would win the case against me.

The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I became.

Why me? Why is this happening to me?

Just then, my phone beeped.

I reached for it slowly, my body aching. It was a message from an unknown number.

I opened it, and my heart stopped.

It was a photo. Mark was down on one knee, proposing to Mirabel in a grand manner. Flowers everywhere. Bright lights. A huge ring. She was covering her mouth, pretending to be surprised, but I could see the victory in her eyes.

I was still staring at the picture when another message followed.

"You b***h. How does it feel to watch the man you built for four years propose to another woman?"

My hands trembled. With that message, I already knew the sender. No one else but Mirabel.

I didn't reply. I didn't have the strength. I simply blocked the number and dropped the phone on the bed.

I closed my eyes, but the image stayed burned in my mind.

I'm in this mess because of Mark.

I had gone through all those fertility treatments for him. I wanted to make sure that as soon as we got married, I could easily conceive. That was why I had been on medication for over one year. That was why I had saved myself. That was why I had endured all those injections.

And now? My whole world had shattered. I'm here in this hospital bed, feeling pain I can't even describe. And he's over there, happy, proposing to Mirabel like I never existed.

"What a bitter world," I murmured to myself.

I covered my eyes with my arm and drifted back to sleep.

---

I don't know how long I slept. But at some point, I started hearing voices around me. They were soft, distant, like people talking far away. I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn't. My body was completely drained. I just lay there, listening to the murmurs, unable to move or speak.

Then, silence again.

---

I woke up in the evening.

The room was darker now, the sun setting outside my window. My stomach growled loudly, and that was when I remembered—I hadn't eaten anything since yesterday.

Just as I was thinking about food, the door opened.

A nurse walked in, pushing a small cart. On it were plates and bowls covered with shiny lids. She rolled it beside my bed and smiled warmly.

"Good evening, Miss Joan. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," I whispered. "Hungry."

She nodded and began removing the lids one by one. My eyes widened.

The cart was filled with varieties of food. Rice. Soup. Chicken. Fruits. Juice. Yogurt. Everything looked fresh and delicious.

But then I noticed something.

Some of the meals were specially labeled. "Nourishing meals for expecting mothers." "Rich in folic acid." "For a healthy pregnancy."

I just looked at all of them and felt more disgusted.

They're already treating me like I'm pregnant.

"Miss Joan, these meals are for you," the nurse said politely. "Please take them. You will be needing them for yourself and your young one."

I stared at the food, my stomach growling, but my heart heavy.

"I'm not pregnant yet," I said quietly. "The test hasn't been done."

"The doctor said we should prepare," she replied gently. "Just in case. Please eat. You need your strength."

She left the cart beside me and walked out.

I looked at the food again. My body screamed for it. But my heart rejected it.

If I eat this, am I accepting that I'm pregnant?