Chapter 215 The call

Chapter 215 The call


Miranda’s POV

I got home feeling really tired. My hands were still shaking from visiting Victor in prison. His words kept playing in my mind like a bad song I couldn’t stop. I could still see his angry face when I told him the baby might not be his. I could hear him calling me names.

I locked the door and leaned against it for a moment, trying to breathe. My apartment felt smaller than usual. The air felt heavy, pressing down on me. I took off my shoes and slowly walked to the living room, my body aching with tiredness.

I sat on the couch and stared at my phone for a long time. I knew I shouldn’t call him. After everything with the video and Chard exposing him, Julian was probably having a tough time too. But I couldn’t keep this to myself. He deserved to know, even if he might hate me for it.

I found his number and pressed call before I could change my mind. It rang four times before he answered.

“What?” Julian’s voice was sharp and cold.

I swallowed hard. “It’s me… Miranda.”

There was a short pause. “I know who it is,” he said. “What do you want?”

I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath. “I need to talk to you about something important. It’s about the night we spent together. I’m… I’m pregnant, Julian.”

The silence felt so long I thought he might have hung up. Then he laughed, a bitter laugh that made my stomach twist. “You’re pregnant? And you’re calling me? Again?”

“Yes,” I said quietly. “I thought you should know. It might be yours.”

Julian laughed again, but this time it was angry. “Stop calling me, Miranda. You are the least of my problems right now. My life is falling apart, and I don’t need this. Why didn’t you take care of yourself? Why didn’t you use protection when we were both drunk? Now you want me to be the father?”

His words hit me hard. I felt my chest tighten. “Julian, I didn’t plan this,” I said, trying to stay calm. “I didn’t even know I was pregnant until weeks later. I was dealing with everything with Victor. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“You weren’t thinking straight?” he repeated mockingly. “That’s your excuse? You sleep with me without protection, and now I’m supposed to drop everything and be a dad? Do you even know if it’s mine? Or are you just hoping it is so you can trap someone?”

Tears burned in my eyes, but I held them back. “I’m not trying to trap you,” I said. “I just thought you had the right to know.”

Julian laughed again, but it wasn’t funny. “You really are something else. First, you sleep with me when we were both messed up, and now you want me to take responsibility? I have my own problems, Miranda. My life is a mess. And you think I have time for this? For you?”

I pressed my hand against my stomach without thinking. “Julian, please,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know if this baby is yours or Victor’s. I’m carrying something I didn’t ask for, and I have no one.”

“Then maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to sleep around,” he snapped. “I’m not your savior, Miranda. I’m not going to fix your mess. Figure it out yourself.”

I felt something inside me break. “You don’t have to be so cruel,” I whispered.

Julian’s voice got even colder. “I’m being honest. You made your bed. Now lie in it. And stop calling me. I don’t want to hear from you again.”

Before I could say anything else, he hung up. The line went dead. I sat on the couch, staring at my phone as tears finally fell down my cheeks. My hands were shaking so much I almost dropped the phone. I could still hear his voice, the way he laughed, the way he called me names without trying to understand.

I wrapped my arms around myself and curled up on the couch. My stomach felt tight, and the nausea I had all day came rushing back. I pressed my face into a cushion and let the tears flow. “I can’t do this,” I whispered to myself. “I can’t raise a child alone.”

The words tasted bitter, but they were the truth I had been avoiding for weeks. I had no one. Not my father. Not Lora. Not Julian. Not even myself.

I cried until my throat hurt and my eyes burned. I cried until I felt empty and heavy at the same time. Eventually, I dragged myself to the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed without changing my clothes.

As I lay there in the dark, one hand on my stomach, I kept repeating the same words in my head like a sad prayer. I can’t raise this child. I can’t do this. I can’t do this alone.