Page 97 of Who's Your Daddy?

19. Lia

“You can use this one, Dalisay,” Stella says, leading me to the last bed in the far-right corner.

I used my mother’s name to get in here, and I should’ve thought it through because it makes me even more depressed. Now, more than ever, I want her with me.

I drop my bag on the bed and take in my surroundings. The communal living area is modest, with rows of neatly made beds, each separated by a small nightstand.

“Camilla has the one next to you,” Stella explains. “She’s in the kitchen helping with dinner. I’m sure you’ll meet her shortly, but you can make yourself comfortable in the meantime.”

I give a watery smile. “Thank you.”

I walk into the small room and drop my plastic bag on the single bed next to the window. I wait for Stella to leave and close the door before I sit down on the bed and scan the room, acquainting myself with my new living quarters. The walls of the women’s shelter are painted in soothing pastel shades, probably to create a sense of calm and safety. Yet somehow, the atmosphere is filled with a mix of emotions – relief, uncertainty, and a lingering sense of vulnerability.

Some of the women living here have been through hell. I can see the despair on their faces. Some of them have escaped abusive homes. Some are recovering drug addicts who are trying to get their lives back on track. And some like me. Pregnant and abandoned, with nowhere to go.

It’s kind of depressing seeing tragedy everywhere I turn, but I’m so very grateful that I found this place. It’s a safe haven, a sanctuary, and the staff and the volunteers working here genuinely want to help ease the hardships. They welcomed me with open arms when I arrived earlier, offering me a hug and juice to calm my frazzled nerves. Stella told me they could also assist with prenatal care and weekly check-ups with a doctor who volunteers here.

It’s the best situation I could find myself in considering the circumstances, so I consider this a blessing in disguise. I rummage through my trash bag to find a set of pjs and my toothbrush, but I don’t unpack. I don’t want to get too settled anywhere. Things can change at any given moment, so it’s best to not get comfortable.

“Guess it’s just you and me now,” I say, rubbing my stomach. “I was so stupid. I should’ve told him the truth earlier.”

Finding all that out at once must’ve been a shock to the system. It was all little white lies that seemed so insignificant at the time, but they culminated into such a clusterfuck. Now he thinks I was just using him, manipulating him from the beginning. Those little white lies make it seem like our entire relationship was fake when it’s the only real thing I’ve known since my parents passed away.

I hate myself so much for hurting him that way. He didn’t deserve it. He was amazing, and he took care of me without ever expecting anything in return. The least I could’ve done was tell him the truth.

But even if he knew the whole truth before tonight, nothing would’ve shielded him from the blow of finding out the baby isn’t his. The impact was devastating to me, so it must have been exponentially worse for him. I can still see the betrayal on his face, the way he looked at me like he didn’t even recognize me. And then his eyes darkened, and he turned so cold.

The sheer disappointment on his face is vividly imprinted in my mind and will live there forever. I would give anything to go back in time and change the entire course of events just so I wouldn’t have to see him looking at me like that.

But I need to push that out of my head. Lamenting about what could’ve been is not going to help my situation. I thought I’d hit rock bottom when Teddy kicked me out, but I guess life isn’t quite done with me yet. It’s proving that it has a shovel and is willing to drag me to the depths of despair. A point so low that oxygen is in short supply, and my lungs feel like they’re collapsing from the lack of air.

I just want to take in a single breath and not feel this ache in my chest. I just want to blink once and not feel the tears collecting behind my eyelids. I just want to have one fleeting moment where I don’t feel like I deserve everything that has happened to me.

I’m so stupid. I fell in love with a married man who didn’t love me back. And I let that love blind me in so many ways. I allowed myself to be financially dependent on him, trusting that he would take care of me. But one explosive fight and I was out on the street. I should’ve learned my lesson, but I made the same mistake again.

I fell in love with a man who doesn’t love me back, not really anyway. Peter cares about me, but tonight he proved that our relationship was solely based on the baby. There was no regard for me or my well-being. I told him I had nowhere to go, and it didn’t matter to him. Once the baby was removed from the equation, he didn’t give a shit about me. And the worst part is, I made the same mistake all over again. I allowed myself to be financially dependent on him, trusting that he would take care of me. He was the one who told me not to get another job.

And then for him to turn around and accuse me of using him. How could he possibly think that? The scathing way he threw those words at me made me want to avoid any further interactions. That’s why I couldn’t bring myself to answer the phone when he called me earlier. He was probably calling to cuss me out about stealing from him. He’d just accused me of using him. I denied it, then proceeded to steal food and two hundred dollars from his drawer. I didn’t have a good case or any form of defense, so I just ignored the call then blocked his number.

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