The Choice
867 Words
Charlotte hadn’t slept.
The pregnancy test lay hidden at the bottom of her trash can, but the image of those two pink lines burned into her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, it was there waiting for her.
She made herself a cup of tea, though her hands shook too much to drink it. Her stomach was unsettled again, turning at every small smell in the apartment.
Her life was already falling apart. Now this?
Charlotte pressed a hand to her flat stomach, her heart pounding. She had always imagined having children one day—when she was married, stable, and safe. Not like this. Not from one night with a stranger.
Tears blurred her vision. She couldn’t even afford her rent. How could she raise a baby?
By afternoon, her mother called from the hospital, her voice weak but filled with warmth.
“Sweetheart, how are you holding up?”
Charlotte forced a smile the other woman couldn’t see. “I’m fine, Mom. Just a little tired.”
“You’re working too hard,” her mother sighed. “Don’t forget to rest. I don’t want you getting sick.”
The words cut deep. If only her mother knew the truth.
Charlotte bit her lip until it hurt. She couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Not until she had figured out what to do.
When the call ended, Charlotte curled up on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest. The thought of ending the pregnancy crossed her mind, but the guilt came just as quickly.
She wasn’t sure if she had the strength to make that choice.
She wasn’t sure if she had the strength to keep the baby either.
Her thoughts kept circling back to him. Zaac. The man whose smile had lured her in, whose touch still lingered on her skin. She barely knew him, yet now his presence haunted every corner of her life.
Charlotte swallowed hard.
If she was going to survive this… if she was going to make any kind of decision… she needed to find him.
She grabbed her phone and searched the contacts she had saved that night. Nothing. She couldn’t remember if he’d given her his number or if it was just her drunken imagination.
Her heart sank.
But then she remembered the lounge. The place where she had first seen him. It was the only lead she had.
Charlotte clenched her fists, determination sparking in her chest for the first time in days.
If Zaac had turned her life upside down, then he needed to face the truth with her.
She would find him.
No matter what it took.
Charlotte stood outside the lounge, her heart racing as fast as the traffic behind her. The neon lights flickered against the glass doors, reminding her of the night everything changed.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her purse. She wanted to turn back. She wanted to go home, curl up in bed, and pretend none of this was happening. But she couldn’t. Not anymore.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open.
Inside, the air smelled of perfume, liquor, and smoke. Laughter spilled from the tables, and music thumped low through the walls. It was almost exactly as she remembered it, except now she felt out of place—more than she had before.
She made her way to the bar, her palms sweaty. The bartender glanced at her.
“Can I help you?”
Charlotte wet her lips nervously. “I… I’m looking for someone. He was here a few nights ago. Blond hair, blue eyes, tall. His name is Zaac.”
The bartender raised a brow, as if he’d heard the name before. “Zaac?” He smirked faintly. “Yeah, I know him. Why do you ask?”
Charlotte’s heart skipped. “I… I just need to talk to him.”
The man shrugged. “Sorry, sweetheart. He doesn’t come here often. When he does, he usually sits upstairs in the VIP lounge.”
“Do you know when he’ll be back?” she pressed, her voice almost desperate.
The bartender shook his head. “Depends on his mood. That guy’s unpredictable.”
Charlotte bit her lip, disappointment crashing through her.
She left the bar and slipped into a quiet corner, her mind spinning. She had hoped it would be simple—that he’d just appear, that she could confront him and spill out the truth.
Instead, she felt like a ghost chasing shadows.
Still, one thing was clear. Zaac wasn’t just some random man passing through. If he had a VIP table here, it meant he had money, influence, maybe even power.
That realization made her chest tighten. Who exactly had she gotten involved with?
Her hand instinctively went to her stomach.
She couldn’t give up now.
Zaac had to know.
Across the lounge, a pair of sharp eyes lingered on her. A man in a dark suit leaned against the wall, watching her every move.
Charlotte didn’t notice. She was too busy trying to figure out her next step.
But fate had already noticed her.
And she was about to find herself pulled deeper into Zaac’s world than she ever expected.
- Writer
