The Alpha's Chubby Obsession. novel Chapter 157

Side Story 11

Aria

A faint, shaky laugh slipped out of me and I shook my head hard. “No… it can’t be true.”

But when I looked at my mother, her eyes-filled with fear that told me a truth my mouth didn’t want

to accept.

“Then we should go for a test,” I blurted out quickly, almost desperately.

She nodded immediately, almost too fast, as if agreeing would stop me from falling apart right

there.

My heart wasn’t even beating normally anymore-it felt like it was lodged in my throat, choking me

with every breath. No way am I pregnant.

That wasn’t possible. That couldn’t be happening to me. But was I confident? No. Not even a little. I and Owen had been having sex for two years now, sneaking around in moments that felt like love back then, so there was no way pregnancy wasn’t possible.

But I couldn’t be pregnant for a man who ghosted me… a man who married another woman like I was nothing, without even one word to me. Not a message. Not an explanation. Not even a

goodbye.

That afternoon, my mom and I went to the small clinic not too far from our house. And right there-right in that cold, white room-my worst nightmare came crashing down on me. I was

pregnant.

My mother let out a small shaky sound beside me, almost like a gasp, and my own eyes widened as the world spun.

“What am I going to do now?” I whispered, pained, my voice cracking. I didn’t even recognize the sound of myself.

My mother grabbed my hand tightly. “We have to tell your father,” she said softly.

I looked at her and forced myself to nod.

The truth was already too big to hide.

This… this would bring disgrace to me and to my family. And if the alpha’s family ever found out about this baby, they would make sure the story disappeared-meaning us disappearing with it. They would do everything within their power to silence it, one way or another. And I didn’t want to put my family in that kind of danger.

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Clain

And just as I feared, when my father heard about it, he panicked instantly. His face drained, his hands shook. It was bad-worse than bad. “You will speak of this to no one,” he said, voice low and firm, trying to have control even when I saw fear all over him.

The problems I brought into their lives were already making them look older than their actual ages; guilt stabbed me straight in the chest.

Then my mother came up with an idea-one she thought was brilliant at the time: for me to abort the pregnancy. To end it before anyone knew. To protect us.

I touched my stomach gently that night.

Owen had done me wrong-he had betrayed me in the cruelest way possible-but the baby inside me had done nothing. And even though he hurt me, even though he shattered everything I believed in… we had made this child in love. Once, it was love. Or so I thought.

So while my parents whispered and planned and argued behind closed doors, trying to decide what to do, I made a decision of my own. I decided to write him-one last time. My final words to

him.

And I did.

I wrote everything he deserved to hear. I told him how I would never forgive him for what he did to me-for the pain he left me drowning in. I told him that because of what he had done, his household would never know peace, that problems would follow him and the wife he chose behind my back.

And I told him that if the moon goddess didn’t give us life as werewolves, when we meet again someday through coincidence, he would beg me like his life depended on it.

And at last, at the very end of the letter… I told him I was pregnant.

I knew he wasn’t going to reply-he didn’t have the courage for that anymore.

So I folded the letter, sealed it… and sent it.

And then my father finally came up with a solution. It happened after hours of talking, worrying, and arguing quietly in the living room while I sat alone in my room with my hands on my stomach. His sister-my aunt Mary-who lived far away in another pack, had suggested something different. She said I shouldn’t abort the pregnancy.

She reminded them that anything could go wrong during an abortion, that what if I died in the process? What if the attempt to hide the problem became the thing that destroyed their only

daughter?

So they all came to one final decision: I would go and stay with her until I gave birth.

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It was the best idea at that time. It felt like the only safe option for everyone. When they told me, r

didn’t cry or scream. I didn’t even argue. I only asked the question that needed to be asked, the one

that mattered more than anything.

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