The Alpha’s Rejected Omega

Crashing down, I think.

Sky’s POV

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a white ceiling. It looked too clean, too bright, and the faint humming of air conditioning filled the silence around me. This wasn't the pub, and for a few seconds, I didn’t move. My head felt heavy, my throat dry, and there was a dull ache behind my eyes.

Just then the smell of disinfectant hit me, the smell is sharp and sterile. My stomach twisted with the revelation that I was in a hospital.

I blinked, slowly turning my head to the side. A curtain separated me from another bed. There was a machine beside me, beeping quietly, and a thin tube ran from my hand to a clear IV bag.

The memories returned one by one.

I was in the pub, then I suddenly went dizzy and then crashed into the tray crashed before I heard Joyce’s voice calling my name.

I tried to sit up, but my arm felt weak. A sudden rush of panic filled me, I hated hospitals, I hated the helplessness, and the stillness. I wasn’t sick. I didn’t want to be here.

“Easy, sweetheart.”

The voice came from the left side of the room. I turned to see Joyce standing there, holding a paper cup. Her hair was messy, like she hadn’t slept, and there were faint shadows under her eyes. But she smiled when our eyes met.

“You scared me half to death,” she said softly, coming closer. “You just collapsed right there behind the counter. One second you were talking, the next you were on the floor.”

I tried to smile, but my lips trembled. “Sorry.”

She shook her head. “Don’t apologize. I’m just glad you’re awake.”

I swallowed, my voice small. “What happened to me?”

She placed the cup on the little table beside my bed and sat down. “The doctor said you fainted because your blood pressure dropped. You were dehydrated, and your sugar levels were low. But they also ran a few more tests, just to be safe.”

I frowned. “Tests? What kind of tests?”

Joyce hesitated, looking down at her hands. That hesitation made my heart beat faster.

“Joyce,” I said quietly, “what’s wrong?”

Before she could answer, the curtain slid open and a young female doctor stepped in, her white coat rustling slightly as she approached. She had a clipboard in her hand and a calm, professional smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Oh, you’re awake,” she said brightly. “Good. How are you feeling, Miss… Skylar, right?”

“Just Sky,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I’m okay, I guess. Just a little tired.”

“That’s to be expected after what happened,” the doctor replied. She glanced down at the chart in her hand, then at me. “We ran some standard tests to make sure there wasn’t anything more serious. Your vitals are stable now.”

I nodded, still confused. “So I can leave soon?”

The doctor smiled again, but it looked practiced, almost hesitant. “Soon, yes. But before that, we need to talk about one of your test results.”

Joyce straightened beside me. “Is it something serious?”

The doctor’s eyes softened. “Oh, your friend has nothing to worry about,” she said kindly to Joyce, then turned her gaze back to me. “Congratulations, darling. . . you’re pregnant.”

And I think the room went quiet. For a moment, I just stared at her, waiting for her to say she was joking. My mouth opened, but no words came out. I blinked once then twice.

“I’m sorry,” I said finally, my voice shaky. “You must have mixed my file up with someone else’s. I can’t be pregnant. I haven’t. . . I mean, I haven’t really done anything that would make me pregnant.”

Joyce’s eyes widened. “Sky…”

I shook my head quickly, heat crawling up my neck. “No, I’m serious. I. . . ” Then my words trailed off as something cold settled in my stomach.

Oh, that night.

My heart started pounding so loudly that it drowned out the faint beeping of the monitor beside me.

The doctor’s tone was gentle. “The blood test and urine test both came back positive. You are in your early stages, probably around six weeks.”

I felt like the floor had been pulled from under me. “No,” I whispered. “That’s not possible. I have been taking pills, medication. For my skin, it’s been a year. They’re supposed to prevent. . . I mean, they regulate my hormones. I can’t be pregnant.”

The doctor nodded, her face sympathetic. “Sometimes, even with medication, accidents happen. Birth control isn’t always one hundred percent effective. You’re welcome to take additional tests if you’re unsure.”

She handed me a small pamphlet, “Early Pregnancy and First Steps” and then quietly excused herself, leaving me and Joyce in the heavy silence that followed.

I stared at the pamphlet for a long time before letting it fall onto the bed. My fingers felt cold. “Joyce,” I whispered, “I can’t be pregnant.”

Joyce sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes full of worry. “Sky, are you sure the doctor might be wrong? Maybe the test. . . ”

“I will take another one,” I cut her off, my voice trembling. “Right now.”

She reached for my hand. “Maybe wait till you rest, sweetheart. You’ve just fainted. . .”

“I can’t rest!” I snapped, then covered my mouth immediately. “I’m sorry. I just. . . I need to be sure.”

She nodded quietly. “Okay. We will get the test kits.”

Two hours later, we were back at Joyce’s small apartment. She had insisted I stay the night instead of going back to sleep at the pub. The moment we arrived, I headed straight to the bathroom with a paper bag full of test kits I had bought at the pharmacy on the way.

One by one, I took them.

And one by one, the results appeared.

Positive.

Positive.

Positive.

Positive.

Positive.

My hands trembled as I stared at the little sticks lined up on the sink counter. Each one confirmed what the doctor had said. I was pregnant.

I sank onto the closed toilet seat, gripping the edge as my vision blurred. “How?” I whispered to myself. “How could I be this stupid?”

The bathroom door creaked open, and Joyce peeked in, her face pale. “Sky? What did they say?”

I turned my head toward her slowly, my lips trembling. “All positive.”

She stepped in, closing the door behind her. “Oh, Sky…”

I laughed. . . a broken, shaky sound. “I have been careful my whole life. I don’t even remember his name, Joyce. I don’t even remember his face clearly. I just. . .I can’t believe this.”

She knelt beside me and rubbed my arm gently. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We will figure it out.”

“No, it’s not okay!” I said, shaking my head. “I barely have money to feed myself, and now I have to think about another life? Another responsibility? I just got out of one! I’m barely holding it together.”

Tears filled my eyes until everything looked blurry. Joyce didn’t say anything, just pulled me into her arms, letting me cry into her shoulder. Her scent, faint lavender mixed with cooking oil, reminded me of safety, of long nights working together behind the counter, of the few people who had ever truly cared.

I cried until I had no tears left. When I finally pulled away, she handed me a tissue. “Listen to me,” she said softly. “This doesn’t have to be the end of your world. You are strong, Sky. You will get through this.”

I wiped my face. “I don’t even know who the father is, Joyce. I don’t remember him. I just remember pieces, his voice, the smell of his cologne, the way he looked at me. I don’t even know his name. What kind of mother can’t even tell her child who their father is?”

Joyce reached out and held my hand tightly. “You’re okay, Sky. You made a mistake, that’s all. We all do.”

I looked down at my stomach. It still looked the same, flat under my oversized shirt, but now I couldn’t stop thinking about what was growing inside. A life. Half of me and half of someone I didn’t even know.

The thought terrified me but it also made my chest ache in a strange way.

After a long silence, I whispered, “I’m not killing it. I can’t. It’s not the baby’s fault that I was reckless.”

Joyce squeezed my hand gently. “Okay! Good decision! I was hoping you would say that. You are not alone, Sky. I will help you.”

I nodded slowly, but inside I was still breaking apart. “I need to get a better job. Somewhere that pays more than tips. Maybe the café down the street is hiring full-time.”

She frowned. “Don’t rush yourself. You’re still processing this.”

“I don’t have time to process, Joyce,” I said quietly. “I need a plan. I need money. I need to figure out how I’m going to live.”

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Joyce had gone to bed early, but I lay on the couch staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the refrigerator and thinking about my future when my phone buzzed once, it was a message from Tracy.

Tracy: “Hey, are you still mad at me? I heard from Nick today. He wants to talk to you. Please don’t make things worse than they already are.”

I stared at the message for a long time before deleting it.

My stomach turned. I didn’t tell her about the pregnancy. I didn’t want to. She would just use it against me somehow.

I placed a hand on my belly, closing my eyes. “I‘m so sorry, little one,” I whispered. “But I don't think I can keep you. Please forgive me.”