Definitely a second hand virgin

Morgan's point of view 

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my forehead with the palm of my hand. The week had been hell, pure and simple. 

Every second grated on my nerves, and everyone around me seemed determined to drive me over the edge. 

Marrissa’s absence only made things worse. With her gone, I was forced to work with a temporary secretary who couldn’t get anything right. Every single task she handled ended up a mess. I was sick of cleaning up after her, sick of explaining things she should’ve figured out by now.  

But that wasn’t what bothered me the most. Marrissa had vanished without warning, and her silence burned me more than I wanted to admit. 

She hadn’t told me she was leaving, hadn’t given any notice. Her phone was off most of the time, and when it wasn’t, she ignored my calls. It was like she’d disappeared from the universe completely.  

 I got up and started pacing my office, trying to shake off the frustration that had settled in my chest. The questions wouldn’t stop. Why had she left? Why was she avoiding me? Did she do anything to the baby?

"This is so goddamn frustrating,” I whispered, running my hands through my hair. “I need answers. I need to find her.”  

I couldn’t focus on anything else. Every time I tried to work, my thoughts drifted back to her—to Marrissa and the child she was carrying.  

My phone buzzed, pulling me out of my  thoughts. I glanced at the screen: Farrow. Again. She’d been calling me nonstop for days. With a sigh, I picked up after the third ring.  

"Morgan,” her voice came through sharp, almost accusatory. “Why have you been ignoring my calls? You didn’t even show up for dinner with my dad. What the hell is going on with you?”  

I could hear the desperation in her voice, and it made me sick. Not because I felt sorry for her, but because I didn’t have the energy to deal with her right now.  

“I’ve been busy,” I lied, trying to keep my tone low.  

"Busy? That’s your excuse? Morgan, this is important. You need to start taking things seriously.”  

I leaned back against my desk, the weight of her expectations pressing down on me. I knew exactly what she wanted, what her father wanted, what my father wanted. A union between us made perfect sense to them. Farrow was beautiful, poised, and came from a powerful family. She was everything I was supposed to want.  

But I didn’t want her. Hell, I do not know what I wanted exactly.

She sighed at the other end of the line, her tone softening. “You have to make it up to me. Tomorrow, lunch. Don’t make me wait again. I won’t forgive you this time.”  

“Fine,” I said, already exhausted by the conversation.  

She hung up, and I tossed my phone onto the desk. The knot in my chest tightened as I stared out the window. Farrow and her father wanted a perfect match. My father wanted a perfect image. But with Marrissa pregnant, none of that was possible.  

“Fuck! I hate complications,” I said aloud, my voice harsh and bitter.  

I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to see Marrissa, to demand answers, to finally put an end to the questions eating away at me. Pulling up the staff records on my computer, I scrolled until I found her information. Her address stared back at me, taunting me.  

"If going to her house will give me peace of mind, then so be it,” I muttered, grabbing a pen to jot it down.  

The drive to St. Orlando Street felt like an eternity, each mile filled with an uneasy mix of anger and apprehension. When I finally arrived, I parked across the street and stared at her house. It was small and weathered, the kind of place that felt forgotten by time.  

"How does she even live here?" I thought, disgust curling in my stomach. The idea of my child being raised in a place like this was unbearable. "She is not raising my child here. That’s for damn sure."

I stepped out of the car, the cool air doing little to calm the heat in my chest. As I crossed the street and pushed open the rusted gate, it creaked loudly, drawing my attention to the yard. And then I saw her.  

Marrissa was standing there, hugging a man.  

I froze, my breath caught in my throat. My heart thudded painfully as I watched her wrap her arms around him, her head resting on his shoulder. And then they kissed.  

The ground felt like it had been ripped out from under me. My chest tightened, anger surging through me, hot and fast. But beneath the anger was something else, something I didn’t want to name.  

“You’re just a big fool, Morgan,” I muttered to myself, my voice bitter.  

I watched the man get into his car and drive off, my fists clenched at my sides. Marrissa started walking toward the gate, and I panicked. I stepped back to hide behind a tree. She paused, glancing around for a moment before heading back into the house.  

I stood there for a few minutes longer, my mind a mess of emotions I could not untangle. Finally, I turned and walked back to my car.  

The drive home was a mix of emotions;  anger, confusion, and hurt. I couldn’t stop replaying what I’d seen, couldn’t stop questioning everything. 

No wonder she disgusted me, she is nothing but a whore.

A second-hand virgin, I assume.

One thing was clear to me now: her child wasn’t mine. It couldn’t be.  

“Damn it!” I shouted, slamming my fist against the steering wheel as I pulled into my driveway. I stormed into the house, slamming the door behind me and heading straight for the liquor cabinet.  

I poured myself a drink, the burn of the whiskey doing nothing to ease the storm inside me. I stared at the glass in my hand, the questions swirling in my head louder than ever.  

What had I been expecting? An explanation? A happy ending?  

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter anymore.  

She wasn't an option anyway.