Facing the situation

The following morning, I woke up early, the weight of the day pressing down on me even before I opened my eyes. The sunlight filtered through the thin curtains of the apartment, casting a soft glow on the walls. It should have felt comforting, but instead, it only reminded me that the world kept turning, no matter how lost I felt.

I had to go home today. I had to tell Dad about the pregnancy. If there was something that I found hard to do in my life is this. Facing him

The thought of it sent a wave of nausea through me, not from the pregnancy itself, but from the fear of how he'd react. What if he was disappointed? What he thought mattered a lot. I just prayed that he wouldn't chase me away from home. If he accepted the pregnancy and supported me, then I'd move back home instead of renting an apartment.

I didn't even have breakfast that morning. I showered quickly and left.

Back home, fear crept into me as I imagined seeing my dad. It was a premonition. As soon as I stepped into the living room, he was there, reading his favorite magazine. He smiled as soon as he saw me.

"Emma, I haven't seen you in days. Where have you been?" He was as warm as I could imagine, but that stern voice remained the same. I didn't know how to answer at first, but I had to tell him something. Placing my bag down on the long sofa, I walked to him and gave him a brief hug.

"I had to deal with some stuff at my place." It wasn't a lie, and I didn't tell him I had moved. He looked at me meaningfully before glancing back at his magazine. The silence was palpable. Maybe it was the right time to tell him about the pregnancy.

Looking at his side profile, I hesitated. When he turned to look at me with that deep gaze, I faltered. He seemed to be able to see the depth of my heart. I was scared and kept quiet. I don't know if it was just me, but he seemed to glance at my slightly bulging stomach before returning his gaze to his magazine.

"Do you have something to tell me? Just say it. You're not the shy type of girl," he said, placing his magazine down and looking directly at me. I choked several times, trying to find the right words, but I couldn't. I fumbled, and I saw the irritation starting to settle in on his face.

"It's nothing. I'm just thinking about next term. I've already deferred my studies for two semesters, and I don't know what will happen next." I quickly changed the subject, hoping to steer him away. Indeed, I had gone to school and talked to the dean about deferring my classes for a year.

"I know things are tough right now, but don't worry. I'll see what I can do to help you finish your course. In the meantime, help your mother around the house." He said it in a way that didn't seem dismissive, but it didn't quite ease the storm churning in my chest.

I nodded, though I was far from reassured. I knew deep down that telling him would have to wait. For now, I would carry the secret just a little longer.

But for how long could I hide from him? Pregnancy is not like any illness. It will eventually show, and it has already started to show.

I took my bag and went inside my room. I closed the door behind me and crouched down, crying.

By the time I went out of my room again, Dad had already left for work. He had night duty, and I knew he would be coming back the next two days. I knew if I wanted to tell him, this was the time—when he was away.

That night, I took my phone and breathed heavily before I started texting. I knew I couldn't tell him face to face, and calling him was not an option. I had to chat with him. It was much easier for me.

"Hi, Dad." I started, but then erased it. It was getting hard to start the message, and eventually, I had to. "Dad. There is something very serious I want to discuss with you." This time I did not erase the message and sent it. I waited a few seconds before he replied.

"What is it?" That was it—a very simple but heavy question. I looked at the phone and started typing. "I am pregnant." I sent it immediately. It took a long time before he replied this time. I could barely breathe. His reply took an eternity.

"Who is responsible?" I didn't hesitate and answered. "His name is Mark."

Just like that, a series of questions began. "Have you told him about the pregnancy?"

"Yes, I did."

"What did he say?" This time I hesitated for a bit before I answered. I wanted to give an excuse for Mark, but then he made it clear he didn't want anything to do with the baby. I had to tell the truth.

"He said he was not ready for it and that I should get an abortion." It took ten minutes before he answered again. But all this time it felt like an eternity. Every silence before he answered was torture. Waiting to hear his response.

"Does he have a job or a business?" This question was ambiguous, and the answer could determine a lot. I didn't know what his plan was, but I answered anyway.

"He just finished school and has started his own small business, but it hasn't picked up yet." Before I could send the message, he had already sent another. I sent my reply immediately.

"For how long have you known this Mark guy?" I didn't hesitate and answered immediately. I also thought knowing someone for a year and getting pregnant for him was foolish

"It's been a year."