Page 1 of Forced Pregnant Bride

Chapter 1 – Serena

Fyodor Dostoevsky, a famous Russian novelist, once said, “The soul is healed by being with children.”I could not agree more.

They were so pure, so innocent, and bundles of joy to be with—almost like a healing balm. Their energy was pure and uninhibited, which filled me with a sense of peace. Being around them reminded me of everything good and pure, like when the world first began, unraveling itself like flower petals, unfolding and tilting toward the sun to be fed, and aging as the hands on the clocks ticked by.

Every moment with them was worth it: watching them play, hearing their giggles as they chased each other around, and helping them learn, even when they were mischievous and testing boundaries. Their curiosity, laughter, and boundless energy were infectious, and I found myself smiling more and laughing more just from being in their presence. In times like that, I felt lighter and happier, as if being around them had the power to lift all the heaviness from my shoulders.

A past like mine should have altered the way I perceived the world and the way I perceived children. But my traumatic shock worked differently than the rest. With the little ones, it wasn’t just joy; it was this overwhelming contentment, a feeling that no matter what else was happening, in that moment, everything was exactly as it should be.

Twisting on my black ballet flats, my heart raced with undiluted happiness. I stole a few extra seconds to design a bolded “WELCOME, NEW BATCH!” on the green board and turned around. Outside, the clouds were an angry shade of dark grey. Harsh winds blew against the trees, and drops of eager June rain fell on the freshly mowed field. The rain hit thewindows like they were searching for a way in while chairs and desks scraped the floor.

Once they settled, I took a deep breath and exhaled, expressing all the bubbling joy from within with a delightful clap of my hands and curve of my lips.

“I officially welcome you all to the sixth grade, my young champions! My name is Ms. Serena Skye, and I’ll be your guide and travel companion during excursions, of course, and confidant for the rest of the year. Or you can call me your teacher.”

They laughed, teeth shining, and hearty giggles warming up the chilly room as the entire class of forty young students came alive.

“I am so thrilled to see you all here today.”

I scanned the room, making eye contact with each student. Their expressions weren’t new to me. While some looked eager, others were apprehensive. Still, between them, I knew if I looked hard enough, I would see the similar cord binding them all together, the shared concern about how well they intended to pass through this phase of their lives, what would become of them, and what the new phase will be like.

At some point in our lives, we’ve all had that fear, that ringing “Am I good enough?” question that haunted our thoughts whenever we were launched into a new grade, level, or opportunity.

But that was why I was here, to hold their hands and reassure them that the world was under their feet as long as they were determined and ready to soar.

“I want to assure you that this year will be an incredible journey. We’ll explore new subjects, discover hidden talents, and grow together. I promise to be patient with you, to support you, and be here to guide you every step of the way, however I can.”

A skinny hand shot up in the air.

I smiled at him. “David, is it?” In the previous grade, he’d been a veryparticularkid, so I’d learned about him. “I studied your file, just in case you’re wondering how I know your name already. I know all your names.”

The blond boy with clear-sky blue eyes and the cutest set of dimples rose from his seat with a surprising charm I believed he must have mastered from an adult.

“Ms. Skye,” a wobbly smirk formed on his mouth, and he struck a pose, driving his fingers through the short strands of his hair, “I must say you are looking exceptionally stunning this morning in that honey-bee sweater. Striped yellow is definitely your color, and the shining sun does not hold a candle to your beauty.”

In the fifth grade, a blanket of diamond stars twinkled in Garcia’s eyes. In the fourth grade, the galaxy should have laid at Rhea’s feet because of her commanding aura. Folding my arms, my lips curved to the side, a charmed smile coming through. David Rodriguez, popularly known as the ‘young charmer.’ At his young age, he already had a reputation for letter-bombing his female teachers with customized compliments. They joked that we might have ourselves a 21st-century Shakespeare. And while his child-like admirations had been investigated and proven to be completely harmless, the rest of the class seemed to disagree with his smooth moves.

Low chatter and a few murmurs started spreading between the students, and, one by one, they started raising their heads to engage in what they expected to be another teacher-student moment. In a short while, the classroom buzzed, filling the air with more excitement.

“Oh, my God,why must I endure this torture every year?” Salome, a chubby and vibrant school enthusiast, groaned and flicked her auburn braided ponytail at the twelve-year-old culprit. Clearly, she was not enjoying the distraction. “Sit down,David. It’s raining cats and dogs outside,andthere’s no color calledstriped yellow. Get your facts straight before standing up to embarrass yourself.”

“That’s what you think, but I tell you, there are many, many colors you are yet to discover because you are too stuck up to observe.” He rolled his eyes and hurriedly flashed me a smile. “Pay her no heed, Ms. Skye. She’s only jealous because I have never given her a compliment.”

I couldn’t help it; I laughed. “I’m sure that’s not the case, David. Salome isnotstuck-up.” It was important to start ridding the air of possible negative energy before the conversation turned south. “And you aren’t embarrassing yourself.”

Salome stuck her tongue out at him and offered me an apologetic smile.

“Anyway, thank you for the compliment. It was thoughtful of you. But you,” I amplified my voice, staring at them one after the other, “and the rest of the class should know that, while freedom of expression is encouraged here, you have to understand the timing, okay? There is time for everything: time to learn, to play, to squabble, and to exist in peaceful harmony. Is that okay?”

With a satisfied tip of his chin, he returned to his seat, nodding in agreement with the rest of the students. “Yes, Ms. Skye.”

“Good. Now, let’s get started on our first day together. I’m so excited because I know we’re going to achieve great things together this year.”

I moved around the class, ignoring the view through the windows of colorful and brightly muted flashes of lightning ripping through the stormy skies, while I handed each one of them a bright blue folder. “Take a few minutes to look through this. It’s got all the essential info for the year. This blue folder will be our communication lifeline, so keep it handy.”

While they reviewed the materials, I memorized some students’ names, matching them to their faces and distinguishing features. There was Emma, with bright pinkAlice in Wonderlandhair clips; Jake, sporting a faded baseball cap; Maria, with an open vibrant sketchbook on her desk; and a few others, whose names I easily remembered.

“Done?”

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