CHAPTER 3: FIVE YEARS AGO: I'M PREGNANT!!
1468 Words
Anika pushed open the front door with shaky hands, the cheap wood creaking like it shared her exhaustion. The apartment smelled faintly of burnt popcorn and perfume — overly sweet, suffocating. The place hadn’t changed. Everything else had.
Linda was stretched out on the couch like a queen, flipping through her phone and lazily munching on a bowl of cereal, even though it was well past noon. A half-empty bottle of wine stood on the coffee table next to her like the aftermath of a party Anika hadn’t been invited to.
> “And where have you been all day?” Linda asked without looking up.
Her voice was light, dismissive — the kind that made it clear she didn’t actually care about the answer.
Anika dropped her bag by the door, trying to stay upright even as her legs begged to fold.
She was still sore. Still dizzy from the pain in her chest. Still haunted by that envelope.
> “Were you looking for me?” she asked quietly.
Linda scoffed, spoon halfway to her mouth.
> “Eh, no. I just needed your help with something earlier.”
Of course she did.
That was always Linda — needing things, expecting them, treating people like resources she could tap into whenever it suited her.
Anika stared at her for a moment. Her perfect red hair was still curled from the night before. Her lashes long, her robe silky. She looked untouched by the world.
And Anika?
She felt like a broken thing wrapped in skin.
She walked past her sister without another word, heading straight to their shared bedroom. She didn’t even close the door — she just sat on the edge of the bed and stared down at her shaking hands.
The room was dim, lit only by the pale gray light leaking through the window. Anika sat on the edge of the bed, her hands pressed to her face, trying to cry silently.
But it wasn’t silent.
A sharp sniff slipped through her fingers. Then a broken gasp. Then more tears — too many to hide.
She didn’t hear Linda enter. Didn’t realize she’d been watching from the doorway until she spoke.
> “Are you crying?” Linda asked, half annoyed, half curious, like she’d walked in on someone watching a sad movie.
Anika shook her head too quickly. Wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater.
> “No. I’m just— tired.”
> “You look like hell.”
Linda walked in, arms crossed, cereal bowl still in hand like it was her scepter.
Anika stared down at the floor.
> “I did something stupid.”
Linda arched a brow. “Define stupid.”
Anika hesitated. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
> “I slept with someone.”
Linda blinked. Then smirked. “Okay… and?”
> “I didn’t know him. It was just one night. A stranger.”
Her voice cracked. “And when I woke up… he was gone.”
Linda sat down beside her on the bed like it was all so casual.
> “So? Happens all the time.”
Anika turned to her. Eyes red. Shoulders trembling.
> “He left me money, Linda. Two thousand pounds. In an envelope.”
That made Linda pause. She set the bowl on the floor.
> “Wait… he paid you?”
> “No— I mean— I don’t think that’s what I… it didn’t feel like that. But then— maybe it was. I don’t know.”
She let out a choked laugh. “God, what was I thinking?”
Linda rolled her eyes.
> “You were thinking like a broke college girl who got lucky.”
“Honestly, Ani? You should be grateful. That’s more than most girls get after a random hookup. At least you walked away with something.”
Anika recoiled.
> “It wasn’t about the money.”
> “Clearly. But maybe it should’ve been.”
Linda stood, smoothing her robe.
> “Look, if he wanted to leave a tip, take it. Use it. God knows you need it. Rent’s due next week.”
Anika stared at her, stunned.
> “Do you hear yourself?”
> “Yeah. I hear the truth.” Linda grabbed her bowl again. “You’re not the first girl to fall for a rich guy in a mask, Ani. At least this one had the decency to leave something behind.”
And just like that, she was gone — walking out like she hadn’t just shattered what little dignity Anika had left.
Anika was alone again.
In silence.
In shame.
Still holding that cursed envelope like it was burning through her hands.
She didn’t want the money.
She didn’t want any of it.
She wanted to forget.
But her body still remembered his touch.
And her heart… hated that it did.
Anika sat alone on the park bench for what felt like hours.
After that day, weeks bled into months, and still, she found herself secretly yearning for the stranger—a quiet ache she couldn’t shake. Her body began to change in ways she couldn’t quite explain. The fatigue, the nausea, the strange cravings. She brushed it all off as stress, the weight of life catching up with her. But beneath her denial, something was growing—quietly, steadily—demanding to be acknowledged.
Back to the pregnancy reveal;
Her tears had dried. Her legs were stiff. Her heart was still aching, but something inside her had shifted — not healed, not yet, but hardened.
She couldn’t afford to cry anymore. Crying didn’t pay rent. Crying didn’t buy milk or diapers or doctor visits.
She placed a hand over her belly — flat now, but not for long — and whispered to the child she couldn’t see yet.
> “I don’t know how I’m going to do this. But I will.”
She stood.
And this time, when she walked home, she didn’t drift like a ghost.
She walked like someone who had made a decision.
---
The apartment was exactly how she left it — messy, loud, full of Linda’s chaos.
The first thing she saw was a giant pink shopping bag dumped on the couch. Shoes. Branded. Expensive.
Another delivery box from some influencer skin care brand Linda swore by.
Linda was standing by the mirror, trying on earrings she definitely didn’t pay for with her own money.
> “Oh, finally,” she said, catching Anika in the reflection. “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck. Anyway—look what I got!”
She lifted the heels with a grin. “Aren’t they stunning? On sale too. Well, kind of. I may have used your card. But don’t worry, it wasn’t that much.”
Anika’s jaw clenched.
> “You used my money? Again?”
Linda shrugged. “Relax. You never spend it anyway. It was just sitting in your account like it was lonely.”
Anika took one step forward. Her voice wasn’t soft anymore.
> “That money was for school. For food. For rent. For me.”
> “Ugh, here we go,” Linda rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, Ani. You act like you’re some saint saving pennies for world peace.”
And that was it.
Something in Anika snapped.
> “I’m pregnant!”
The words echoed, sharp and jagged, cutting through the air like a blade.
Linda froze, mid-strut, one earring still in her hand.
> “What?”
Anika’s hands were fists at her sides. Her voice cracked but she didn’t back down.
> “I’m pregnant.”
Linda stared at her for a beat. And then she laughed.
Not kindly. Not with disbelief.
It was cold. Mean. Ugly.
> “Oh God, Anika. Seriously? That random guy from the ball?” Linda said because she was sure that was the only guy Anika has slept with.
Anika said nothing.
Linda blinked. “Wait—are you actually keeping it?”
Anika’s silence was the only answer she needed.
> “You can’t be serious,” Linda scoffed. “You’re broke. You can’t even take care of yourself.”
> “I’ll figure it out.”
> “No, what you need to figure out is how to get rid of it.”
That hit harder than she expected.
Anika’s arms wrapped around herself, protective.
> “Don’t say that.”
> “Why not? You don’t even know the guy’s name.”
“I do,” Anika said sharply. “I just… I don’t know who he really is.”
---
Linda folded her arms, calculating now. Her voice dropped.
> “Then maybe we need to find out.”
- Writer
