Chapter 2

Neoma’s POV

As soon as I stepped out of the house, I drew in a long breath of fresh air, hoping it would calm my nerves and racing heart. But it didn’t.

My hands were still trembling, and my legs felt like they would give out at any moment. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. I took a step forward, but my knees buckled, and I found myself sitting on the pavement of my balcony, unable to hold myself together.

Patrick’s words kept echoing in my mind, sharp and cruel: pathetic, pitiful, convenient.

How could the man who had told me for five years that he loved me, that he would do anything for me, turn around and admit he’d been pretending all along?

I felt like a fool, a complete and utter fool. I had given him everything—my love, my trust, my vulnerability—and in return, he had used me.

How foolish had I been?

I wrapped my arms around myself as sobs wracked my body. “Pathetic, pitiful, convenient,” I whispered, repeating his words.

 Each words cut deeper than the last.

Was that how he saw me? Was that all I was to him?

I thought about how much I had sacrificed, how hard I had worked to keep us afloat while he chased one failed endeavor after another. And now this?

Not only had he been cheating on me, but with a werewolf—a werewolf!

The very beings I loathed with every fiber of my being. My hatred for them wasn’t born out of prejudice; it was personal. They had taken so much from me. I didn’t know what it is like to have a mother because of them. My father, who was once a strong and loving man, was now a hollow shell, lost in a world of hallucinations and confusion because of their attack.

He, Patrick knew about this yet he chooses to betray me this way; the man I thought I would spend my life with, had betrayed me with one of them.

Of all people I thought would fail me or be against me, Patrick was the very last person who I ever thought would betray me because I believed he saw and understand the struggle I had been through. I believed he understood my struggle when life had beaten me down.

I glanced down at my stomach and rubbed my belly, tears still streaming down my face.

What was I going to do now? Should I keep this baby? Could I?

 I was overwhelmed by the weight of my thoughts, and fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. Life had never been fair to me since I was born, but this—this was too much.

Just when I thought things were starting to look good, they crumbled right in front of me.

Without thinking, I stood up from the pavement. My legs felt unsteady, but I managed to make my way to the bus stop. I stood there waiting for the bus to come and just instantly, it arrived and I climbed in.

I didn’t know where I was going, but my heart pulled me in one direction—the hospital. I needed to see Dr. Phil.

Dr. Phil had been my rock throughout this journey, guiding me and giving me hope when I had none. Maybe he would have the answers I needed now.

The bus ride to the hospital was a blur. My thoughts swirled in a chaotic mess, and by the time I reached the familiar building, my legs felt like lead.

I headed straight to the gynecology section, the path to Dr. Phil’s office etched into my memory from countless visits. Each step felt heavier than the last, and my heart pounded in my chest as I approached his door.

Just as I was about to take another turn that leads to Dr. Phil office, I collided with someone only to look up to see it was Dr. Phil. His face was tight with worry, and he had his phone pressed to his ear, seemingly in the middle of dialing a number. When his eyes met mine, his expression softened, relief washing over his features.

“Neoma! Thank goodness you’re here. I was just about to call you,” he said, his voice quick and urgent.

I blinked, taken aback by his tone. ‘Call me? Why?’ I wondered.

“There’s something we need to talk about,” he began, but then his gaze shifted to my tear-streaked face. There was concern clouded in his eyes. “Are you okay? You don’t look well. Come and sit down first.” He said.

Before I could respond, he gently guided me to an office and closed the door behind us. The office wasn’t his usual office but I had not time to wonder why we weren’t going to his office.

I truly needed to sit.

I sank into the chair across from his desk, feeling all my emotions pressing down on me just as I sat down. The instant I sat down on the chair, I realized why I had reluctantly came here to the hospital instead of anywhere else.

“What happened?” he asked softly, sitting down and leaning forward, his hands clasped on the desk.

I drew in a shaky breath, my voice barely above a whisper. “I want to abort this baby.”

Dr. Phil’s eyes widened in shock. “What?!” he exclaimed; his voice louder than I expected.

I looked up at him, my own eyes filled with tears. “I want to abort the baby,” I repeated. “Patrick… he doesn’t want me. He never did. He’s been pretending this whole time, using me. I thought we were in this together, but I just realized that I have been alone all along. And now… I’m not in the right state of mind to raise a child alone. I’m barely holding myself together.”

Tears flowed freely down my cheeks as I spoke, my voice trembling with emotion. “Please, Dr. Phil. I can’t do this alone. I’m not strong enough and likewise not emotionally and financially stable for it.”

He stared at me, his expression unreadable.

After a long pause, he leaned back in his chair, letting out a heavy sigh. “Neoma, I understand how you’re feeling. Truly, I do. But there’s something you need to know. What you’re asking for is not going to be possible.”

I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, his eyes searching mine. “The baby… it doesn’t belong to Patrick.”

His words hit me like a bolt of lightning. “What?!” I gasped, my voice rising in disbelief.

Dr Phil’s hesitated again, he bit his lips as if he was trying so hard to say a word, then in a rush in spat it out,

“The baby belongs to a very powerful Alpha werewolf!”