Wrath of a father

His reply came faster this time as if he'd been waiting for it.

"A year? And you didn't think to use protection. How old are you to get pregnant for a guy you don't know much about? How stupid could you be? Is this what I have taught you? Or is this the degree you are getting me after all this time in school?" His words cut through me like a knife.

I stared at the screen, feeling like I couldn't breathe. It wasn't just his disappointment that stung. It was the way his words made me feel like I had let him down. I thought back to the nights I stayed up, rehearsing the conversation in my head, wishing I could just have the strength to say it all in person. But this... this was worse. The silence that followed his messages felt so heavy, as though the weight of it was suffocating me.

I could feel the tears starting to well up in my eyes again. How did we get here?

I began typing but erased the words. How could I explain? How could I make him understand the mess I had made of my life?

I typed again, my fingers trembling. "I'm sorry, Dad. I never meant for any of this to happen. I'm scared. I don't know what to do. I didn't want to disappoint you."

Another long pause followed, and I braced myself for what would come next. I knew what it was going to be—anger, frustration, maybe even rage. But nothing could have prepared me for the coldness that followed.

"Disappointed is an understatement, Emma. You know better than this. I raised you to be stronger, to make smarter choices." His words felt like they were echoing in the room, as though they were bouncing off the walls and coming back at me louder, more painful.

I curled up on the bed, hugging my knees to my chest, feeling the weight of his disappointment press down on me. Each word hitting me harder and harder. It was like someone picked a nail and hammer and hit it down on me one after the other. It was too much to bear. He had too much hope in me. He placed his future and that of my family in my future. He tried his best to make sure I had all I needed. But How did I repay him

But I had, hadn't I? I had let everything spiral out of control. And now, here I was, trying to fix it. Trying to make it all better.

"I know, Dad. I do. I messed up. I really messed up." My fingers hesitated over the keyboard. I wanted to say more, but the words stuck in my throat.

Finally, after what felt like hours, I saw his response. But it wasn't angry or cold like before. It was... resigned.

"Emma, this isn't just about you anymore. It's about that child. Your baby. What are you going to do for it?"

His words made my heart twist in ways I didn't know were possible. I had tried to avoid thinking about the baby too much, and tried to push the reality of it out of my mind. But there it was, staring me in the face.

"I'm scared, Dad. I don't know how to do this. I don't know if I'm ready."

Another long pause followed, but this time, when his reply came, it was different. His tone softened just a little, like he was trying to understand, to reach me across the invisible space between us.

" You have to know this. I am not going to allow my enemies to laugh at me. I will not allow a pregnancy outside marriage in this home. You will have to get rid of the baby. If you want to continue living with me then the baby has to go" The shock I received was too much compared to all we have talked about. Of all the things I expected, this was not one of them

The words hit me harder than I expected. It was like a light had been turned on in my mind, and for the first time, I could see the road ahead, even if it was unclear and filled with uncertainty. I wasn't sure how I was going to manage it all, but I had no choice but to try.

The shock of his words left me frozen. "You will have to get rid of the baby." My heart seemed to stop as the sentence echoed in my mind, the weight of it pressing down on me like a crushing stone. I stared at the screen in disbelief, unable to process the seriousness of what he had just said. Was this really my father speaking? The man who had always taught me to be strong, to face challenges head-on, now telling me to erase the very life that had already begun to grow inside me?

I couldn't breathe. The words felt like they were suffocating me, a heavy fog that clouded my thoughts. Everything else around me faded, and I was left with just that—get rid of the baby—repeating in my head like a mantra I couldn't escape from.

How could he say that?

I couldn't believe it. This wasn't the man I had looked up to, the man who had raised me to be independent, to make my own choices, to stand strong no matter what. No, this... this was a man who saw only shame, who cared more about his pride than the future of his daughter and grandchild.

Tears welled up in my eyes again, and I couldn't stop them. I wanted to fight back, to argue with him, to tell him that this baby, my baby, was mine, and I would keep it, no matter what. But the words wouldn't come. How could I explain to him how I felt—how terrified I was, how unprepared I was to raise a child? How could I explain the guilt that had been eating away at me, the shame I had carried, and the fear that my whole world was about to change forever?

I wasn't ready. I knew that. But did that mean I should end it? I didn't even know if I could live with that decision.

I typed back slowly, my fingers trembling.