The Unwanted Bride

“I’m not taking responsibility for your pregnancy.” His voice was cold, final. He threw back a shot of alcohol, barely sparing her a glance. Helena’s chest tightened. She had spent endless nights searching for him, showing up at this club over and over, hoping and praying for this moment. And now, after all that, he dismissed her like she was nothing. Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the table. “What? But why?” Her voice cracked, thick with disbelief. “Do you know how many times I’ve been here, waiting and searching for you just to tell you this?” Another shot of alcohol disappeared down his throat. No reaction. No guilt. Just indifference. The man she had been chasing had no intention of being caught. “Wow, that’s cute, but I’m not interested in this nonsense.” He leaned back, grinning. “That night? It was just fun. Nothing more. Just two strangers doing what everyone else does in a club.” Her chest tightened. “Maybe I was a stranger to you, but didn’t you feel something? Even a little? After the way we talked, after everything that happened… because I did.” He snorted, moving the next shot around in his hand. “Listen to yourself. Tell me something, am I the only guy you’ve ever been with?” She swallowed hard. “No… and same goes for you. But I always used protection. Except with you.” That made him pause, for a second. Then he leaned out and laughed, drinking the next shot. “How old are you again?” The mockery in his voice burned more than the alcohol in his throat. “I’m old enough,” she shot back, but deep down, she could see it now that he was playing her like a game he’d already won. He leaned in again, his grin sharp. “Look around. You think people come to a club like this looking for love? Nah, they come to drink away their problems or screw them away. That’s it. We were both drunk, talking nonsense. You should know how this works, either you use protection or you get rid of it. We don't know each other.” Her fingers curled into fists. “Alfred! Isn’t that your name?” His laughter cut through the noise like a blade. “You really think that’s my name?” He shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Why the hell would I give you my real one? I just wanted to sleep with you, same as every other girl in this club. That’s how this works, sweetheart. Don’t act all innocent. Weren’t they cheering your name when you walked in? You’re not new to this… and neither am I.” That night was supposed to be special—it was her birthday, after all. She had come here to celebrate, never expecting the night would lead to this. “Can't we give this a chance?” Her voice trembled with hope, her eyes searching for a glimmer of something, anything. “I know you probably think less of me because we met at a club, but people change. Change your mentality. I wanted this to work. We can forget how it all started and start fresh, from the moment we met.” A cold chuckle escaped his lips. “Desperation doesn’t suit you,” he said, arms crossed, gaze sharp. “If I wanted a wife or a real partner, do you think I’d look for one in a club? I’d go somewhere decent, somewhere with people who actually have direction, not party girls chasing the next thrill. How am I supposed to trust you'd be loyal?” His expression darkened. “Do yourself a favor by getting rid of that pregnancy. I’m not raising a child with someone like you.” Her breath hitched. “Someone like me?” The words stung, slicing through her like a blade. “What’s so wrong with me? I’m not a prostitute. I’m just a regular girl trying to take responsibility. And you’re no different from any of us in this club, maybe worse than most.” She took a shaky step forward. “If we had met in a library, in a church, in some quiet café instead of a club… would you still look at me this way? Would you still reject me like I mean nothing?” “I prefer high-caliber women, classy, intelligent, the kind who belong in boardrooms and black-tie events,” he said, rolling his drink in his hand with a sly grin. “Older, wiser—that’s my type.” She let out a dry laugh, her eyes blazing with anger.“So that’s your game? You chase thrills in clubs, wrecking hearts for sport, then settle down with the so-called ‘decent’ ones? You’re worse than I thought. Maybe the real mistake was your mother not aborting the walking disaster that is you.” Her voice cracked, but she refused to let the tears fall. “I actually felt something for you. Stupid of me, wasn’t it? I should have known you’re just like the rest. And to think I let you touch me.” He downed another shot, barely sparing her a glance. “You done?” he muttered, licking the liquor off his lips. “Because I’ve got fresh company waiting.” His gaze drifted past her, scanning the room for his next target. The air reeked of whiskey and betrayal. Girls walked by—waitresses, partygoers, all unaware of the damage he left behind. She sat there, drowning in disgust, heartache wrapping around her like smoke. She grabbed her handbag, rising from her seat with a fire burning in her eyes. Without hesitation, she snatched the untouched shot from the table, the one meant for him and flung it straight at his face. The liquor splashed across his smug expression, dripping down his chin as she leaned in, her voice like a blade. “Satisfied?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned on her heel and strutted toward the exit. The beat of the music pounded through the club, but all he could hear was the rhythmic sway of her hips as she disappeared into the night. Outside, the cold air hit her skin, but the fury in her chest kept her warm. She raised a hand, flagging down a taxi. Just as she slipped inside, her phone buzzed. Georgina. She hesitated before answering. “Hello?” Her cousin’s voice was sharp. “Helena, Father wants to see you. Looks like you’re in serious trouble.” Her stomach clenched. “What trouble?” Silence. Then the call cut off. She stared at the screen, heart pounding. Her father was always a headache, but this? This felt different. What the hell had she done this time?