Chapter 20 MAKE ME PREGNANT

Chapter 20 MAKE ME PREGNANT
I ignored them and focused on my hungry stomach. I hate this—about to eat, yet there's still so much talking.

"I'm already hungry. Where are Ate and the others?" I said impatiently.

Right on cue, Akisha and Charl entered.

"Finally, they're here. Let's eat," I said, immediately scooping food onto my plate.

"Gad, Atarah, have some manners. We have guests," Mom said, but I just rolled my eyes.

I don't care about guests. What matters is feeding my hungry stomach.

"I'm really hungry," I muttered.

Mom sighed, then turned to Rare. "Rare, please forgive my daughter. She really has an attitude."

They all laughed—even Akisha and Charl. There was nothing funny about it.

"Haha, no worries, Tita. I'm used to it," Rare replied.

Great. "Used to it." As if we were close. If it were Kristan, sure—he's truly used to me.

"Hey, Rare," Akisha greeted.

Rare smiled sweetly at her, and I rolled my eyes again as I continued eating.

So awkward.

"God, please bless our food. Amen," I silently prayed.

"Anyway, you probably already know Charl, right? Akisha's husband," Dad said.

"Yes, Dad. We've already met earlier," Charl replied, helping Ate sit down.

"Good to know. Their fathers are also close friends," Dad added casually.

"Really, that's nice," Rare said.

"By the way, Rare, when did you and Ath meet? When you were kids, she was in LA with her grandmother, so you two never met. Only you and Akisha were close," Mom asked.

"Oh. I thought Akisha was the only daughter. I don't remember the exact date, Tita, but when I was in Paris, we already knew each other through the medical field," Rare answered smoothly.

What is he even saying? He's such a good liar. Clearly used to making up stories.

I quietly kicked his foot under the table. He looked at me, giving me a knowing look: go along with it, I have a plan.

"So you two are really close," Dad observed.

"Actually, Tito, Tita," Rare began, his voice steady yet carrying an unmistakable weight that immediately drew everyone's attention, "I would like to formally inform you that I am courting Atarah."

For a split second, the world seemed to pause.

I nearly choked on my own breath, my chest tightening as if the air had suddenly grown too heavy to inhale.

What?

My fingers curled slightly against the armrest, nails pressing into the fabric as I forced myself to stay composed. Is this seriously his plan?

"What?! Oh my God!" Mom's voice rang out, bright and delighted, her eyes lighting up as though she had just heard the most wonderful news of her life.

"Is that true?" Ate leaned forward, her curiosity barely contained, gaze flickering between me and Rare.

Every pair of eyes in the room shifted toward me, waiting.

"Yes, Sis," I answered, my tone even, almost too calm—an impressive contrast to the storm raging inside me. My heart pounded against my ribs, each beat louder than the last, betraying the conflict I refused to show.

"Oh my God, that's wonderful!" Mom clasped her hands together, practically glowing with excitement. She turned to Rare with a wide, approving smile. "Rare, you can call me Mommy now—no need for 'Tita.'"

I blinked.

Once. Twice.

Are they serious?

The ease—the speed—of their acceptance made something twist uncomfortably in my chest. A strange, bitter thought crept in before I could stop it.

Are they really this happy... or are they just that eager to hand me over?

"When did this start?" Charl asked, arms crossed but clearly intrigued, eyes sharp with interest.

Rare shifted slightly, his posture relaxed, as if he belonged here—as if this entire moment had been carefully orchestrated. Then he glanced at me, a teasing smile tugging at his lips, one that only I seemed to understand.

"I started courting her three months ago," he said smoothly.

Three months.

My breath hitched, but I masked it quickly, lifting my chin just enough to keep my composure intact. The lie—or half-truth—hung in the air, bold and unchallenged.

"So," Dad spoke up, his voice calm but carrying authority, his gaze settling on me with quiet expectation, "when are you planning to give him your answer?"

There it was.

The question that mattered.

The room fell into a brief silence, thick with anticipation. I could feel their eyes on me again, waiting, judging, hoping.

I let a small smirk form on my lips, slow and deliberate, as if I held all the power in this situation.

"I don't know," I said lightly, my voice laced with just enough nonchalance to keep them guessing. Then I tilted my head, meeting Rare's gaze head-on.

"Maybe tomorrow," I replied with a smirk.

Dinner continued with conversations, teasing, and subtle tension between Ate and Charl. I could sense they were affected, and I kind of liked it.

Later that night, while everyone was downstairs drinking by the pool, I stayed in my room reading when someone knocked.

Here is your scene rewritten in full English, more emotional, immersive, and professionally written, while preserving the intensity, pacing, and character dynamics:

\---

“Who’s that?” I asked, lowering the book in my hands, my voice already laced with irritation.

“Akisha.”

The moment her name reached my ears, my expression darkened. I shut my eyes briefly, exhaling through my nose as annoyance surged through me.

What does she want now?

“What do you need?” I called out sharply, not even trying to hide my displeasure.

“Can we talk? Can you open the door?”

I hesitated for a second before forcing myself to stand. “Fine.”

I walked to the door and opened it, barely sparing her a glance before turning my back and heading straight to my bed again. I sat down, crossing one leg over the other, my patience already running thin.

“So, what is it?” I asked, raising a brow as I looked at her directly.

She closed the door behind her and slowly sat at the edge of my bed, her presence alone enough to irritate me further.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” she began, her voice unusually soft. “For Akeila… can you take care of her next week? Charl and I have to leave for Korea. We have some unfinished business there. Her nanny had to go back to the province because of a death in the family. Mom and Dad also have a business trip, and…” she paused, her voice tightening slightly, “…you’re the only person I trust to take care of her.”

For a moment, I simply stared at her.

Of course, I would say yes.

There was no way I would let someone else take care of my niece.

But this wasn’t for her.

It never would be.

“Sure,” I replied flatly. “Is that all you came here for?”