Chapter 2. A Bastard

Ayana’s POV

[Flashback continues]

I cannot bear to look my father in the eye again. The scorching heat of his breathing on the side of my face is cogent evidence of how enraged he is right now.

My eyes are pools of tears. My nose is all red from blowing it. My eyes are puffy from all the crying, and I am certain that they are sore and red. And my head is a whirlwind of emotions. The shame I am feeling right now is immeasurable. I wish the ground would open up and swallow me right now. At least I would escape this shame.

I know I messed up big time. Believe me, it wasn’t my intention, because I know just how much my family’s icon and repute mean to us all. But how was I supposed to know that I loved a heartless, shameless, dickhead who did not love me at all? How was I supposed to know that he was only after this cursed thing between my legs?

I know, ooh, I know. I saw the red flags, right? But don’t they say that each demon has its own angle that can even change it?

Well, I believed I was that angel. I bore with all the mockery and insults of dating the bad boy. I felt and believed I was the right one for him. I was his angel, and he was a beast. The start was all good.

Actually, everything in the short term of our relationship was life in heaven. He was termed a dangerous guy, but in his arms, I felt as safe as I have never felt, even in the confines of this beautiful De Mario family. He took me to the moon with his bad-boy romance and even to cloud nine.

But the pregnancy happened, and in the blink of an eye, he ruthlessly pulled me from the haven he had brought me into and mercilessly slammed me to the ugly, unforgiving ground. He embarrassed me, insulted me, and even spit on my face. The horrible insult he threw at my face will haunt me forever. That is just to say the least.

Actually, that is not even it at all. The bittersweet of this all is how he used me, made a perfect fool of myself, took away my pride and dignity, and then, when he had had enough of it all, he spit me out like stinking trash! Like a worthless whore!

You should have seen how disgustingly he looked at me and how everyone laughed at me when he told me to go to hell with my pregnancy. Even sympathy itself would have stung deep at that precise moment, so you can’t begin to imagine how all the mockery felt to me from all those bitches he had been and those who were waiting for my time with him to rapture so that they could have him.

It was suffocating. To the point that I almost collapsed due to the lack of air. If I hadn’t run away from that horrible scene, I would have died of shame and all the screams of insults and mockery.

“Just what have you done, sis?” My mind is brought back to the voice of the holy Mary, my younger sister, Grace. I turn to her as she speaks, her image so vague that I had to blink out some tears to make it a little bit clear. “I always warned you about that guy, but you didn’t listen. See now what you have done to us. How will people see us from now on? How will we even face society with this shame?”

Yeah. She warned me. Countless times, freaking yes! And, ooh, yeah, I did not listen to her either. How was I supposed to go against the desires of my heart? I was in love, you know. Can nobody really understand that fact alone and cut me some slack? I fell in love, did what I did, got pregnant, and got rejected in the worst way. People fall and rise again, right? It is never a crime to fall in love, right? Or is it?

But in a sixth sense, I think I appreciate her jeering and my father’s rancor more than the mutism of my mother. She has not uttered a word since I broke the news to them a few minutes ago. Only God knows what she thinks of me, but I just wish she could at least say a word.

Her silence hurts more than anything. It is cutting through my shattered heart like a sharp sword against the human flesh. Her cold face, which has always been illumined with warmth, speaks volumes. She is more than ashamed of me.

“Then at least tell me that you have a plan out of this mess and save us from the embarrassment of being the talk of the nation, Ayana,” I say to my father’s low yet harsh tone. “We cannot afford that! I refuse to have my first stain on the name that I have spent all my years building and protecting. You will not be the first person to stain my name and legacy, Ayana Salma! So, what do you plan to do with that bastard in your womb?”

His words slapped me like a tidal wave, hanging in my head like a heavy cloud and leaving me hanging in disbelief! Wait a minute. Is that my father speaking like that?

A bastard???

I had to raise my head and gawk at him in disbelief and hurt. His eyes are a blazing inferno of rage and loathing. His countenance depicts seriousness. The words did not just erroneously slip out of his mouth by mistake. He meant to say every single letter he uttered.

But… Pardon me if I am wrong. I am neither trying to justify my actions nor sugarcoat them. I get it, you know. Like, yes, this is not the way they would have chosen to become grandparents, but it happened.

Unplanned, yes! But it did anyway, and there is nothing to change about this whole ‘mess’, as he called it. But through this mess, they are expecting their first grandchild. The first grandchild of the great De Mario family! Shouldn’t that at least make them look at this scenario from a different angle?

A bastard, really? I never expected this much from him! Cursing my child, his grandchild, when it is just a seed?