Just The 3 Of Us

Chapter 3

“You what?!” Amara exclaimed, slamming her palms on the table so hard that the vase almost fell.

I winced. We had moved from the bathroom to our tiny kitchen just to talk properly, and honestly, I couldn’t blame her for losing it after hearing the story. I had finally told her what happened a few weeks ago—what I remembered of it—and who probably the father was.

“Amara, please,” I urged her, lowering my voice. “Calm down, will you? It’s late. The neighbors might hear us—”

“I don’t care if it’s eleven in the evening or three in the morning!” she snapped, her voice dropping only slightly. “You’re telling me you got drunk at a company event and did it with— with—”

She buried her hands in her head, unable to finish the sentence.

“It was a mistake!” I whispered, instinctively playing with my fingers.

“A mistake?!” She stared at me like someone had personally offended her. “Girl, that did not sound like a mistake at all. It sounded like you were desperate for it just to forget that boy best friend of yours.”

“I was under the influence!” I snapped back, more defensive than I was.

Amara’s shoulders dropped as she let out a long, frustrated sigh. She pressed her fingers against her temples. I could see how frustrated she was—terrified, even—but she was trying to hold herself together for my sake.

I sank into the chair. My heart felt like it was stuck in my throat. The positive test that I took earlier was now sitting discarded in the trash, yet the positive lines still burned into my eyes.

Amara stopped pacing and looked at me gently. Her anger softened beneath the worry.

“Vera… why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She asked with full of worry and care.

My lip trembled trying to find the words. “B-because I was terrified. I didn’t want you to look at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”

At that moment, Amara’s expressions finally softened and crumbled. She dragged her chair next to mine and sat down, pulling me into a half-hug.

“Hey… Vera… Look at me.” She nudged my chin up. “I would never judge you. It’s just that I’m scared of you. I know what you experienced growing up… and I just don’t want that to happen to your child.”

A tear then slipped down my cheek. “I don’t know what to do, Amara.”

She squeezed my hand and gave me a warm smile. “Then we’ll figure it out together. One step at a time.”

Amara pulled me again for a hug before releasing me and gripping both of my shoulders, her eyes scanning my face with serious intent.

“But Vera… are you really sure that he is the father?”

I swallowed. Hard.

The truth was—I wasn’t able to properly see what he looked like during our meeting in the hallway… nor during what happened after that. My vision had been too blurred, my head too heavy, everything spinning like a carousel.

But the next morning, when sunlight seeped into the room and I blinked awake first—I saw him clearly.

His broad, sculpted back.

His sharp jawline softened by sleep.

His angelic and peaceful face resting on the pillow.

Those moles on his skin which looked like a constellation.

And those unmistakable gray eyes I saw last night, now closed beneath those thick clusters of lashes.

All of it etched permanently into my memory. All of it confirming the impossible.

“I’m sure,” I whispered, meeting Amara’s eyes. “I’m completely sure that the man I slept with was our CEO, Leviticus Foster.”

“Do you plan on telling him about it?”

Amara’s question struck me hard.

Tell him?

Tell Leviticus Foster—the CEO, and a man who probably didn’t even know my name—that I was carrying his child?

“I… I don’t know,” I admitted, rubbing my forehead. “He wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“But what if he does?” she asked softly.

I let out a humorless laugh. “He won’t. We barely interact unless it’s strictly for business. He’ll probably think I’m insane—or one of those delusional fans who fantasize about him.”

“Well, it’s better to try,” Amara insisted. “He might help you… you know?”

I scoffed with that thought. “Help me? Amara, people say he’s cold. Ruthless. The type of person to fire someone for breathing loudly in a room. You think someone like him will believe a random employee claiming that she’s carrying his child? He’d fire and blocklist me immediately before he'd even look at me.”

Amara sighed, crossing her arms. I knew she was just trying to help knowing that I might suffer financially if I decide to keep the baby.

“Vera… you know you’re struggling with bills as it is,” she said softly. “I’m not saying you should rely on him. But you and that baby deserve support. So at least think about telling him, okay?”

My thoughts were spiraling—mixed with fear, confusion, and exhaustion.

How was I even supposed to approach him?

Should I send an email? Set a meeting? Corner him in the hallway? Or straight up go inside his office?

Every scenario that I could think of just ended in humiliation.

“I don’t know,” I whispered, finally giving up. “I’ll figure it out soon. But right now… I really just want to sleep.”

Amara glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight.

“s**t—yeah, we still have work tomorrow,” she muttered.

She stepped forward and wrapped me in one last tight hug.

“You have me, okay? Always. If he refuses responsibility, then I’ll still be here. You and that little pea in your tummy won’t go through this alone.”

Warmth filled my chest. I hugged her back, grateful for having her by my side.

“Thank you, Amara,” I murmured.