My life doesn't need to be extraordinary to be perfect. It just needs you in it. -Y/N
I'm anxiously awaiting Olivia, a nurse is currently attending to her. We've been waiting for at least thirty minutes now. I had intended to call my wife, but it dawned on me that I don't have her number. It never occurred to me to ask for it before. I'm the girl who doesn't even have her wife's number, her own love. I feel foolish now. Yet, Jenna could have easily asked for mine, she spends all her time on her phone, chatting with her 'famous and handsome' friends.
Passing the time, I played games on my phone. Despite having over 200 contacts, I have no desire to speak to any of them. All I want is to talk to Jenna, but without her number... The waiting room is deserted, and I find myself dozing off in my chair. It's nearing 2 a.m., and exhaustion weighs heavily on me, especially after our lovemaking just before leaving, which left me drained. Suddenly, the sound of heels clicking on the corridor floor rouses me. I sit up abruptly; it must be Olivia and the nurse. They approach, the nurse carrying a small notepad, reading from it. Olivia smiles at me, gently cradling her belly as a woman six months pregnant might. She appears better, and relief washes over me. I'm uncertain of the severity of her ailment, but her earlier tears suggested something serious. She seemed to be in considerable pain, and I fear it may affect our unborn child. Rising from my seat, I embrace Olivia tightly. Poor thing, she must have been in agony. Perhaps something's wrong with the baby... The thought sends shivers down my spine. Maybe the baby isn't okay, and everything we've planned is in jeopardy. Perhaps we won't have a child after all. I glance up, meeting the nurse's gaze; she's observing us with a faint smile, seemingly admiring. If only she knew this is the first time I've held Olivia like this.
"What's wrong with her?" I inquire, the nurse clearing her throat and returning her attention to her notepad.
Olivia is about to break a rib with how tightly she's holding me, otherwise, I'm fine :)
Then, the nurse's next words cut through the air like a knife, "Your wife-"
My heart stops.
"She is not my wife," I interjected firmly, interrupting the nurse mid-sentence. The surprise flickered across her face, and I felt a wave of nausea at the mere thought of her assuming I was married to Olivia. Her grip on me loosened, granting me a welcome reprieve to breathe. I turned towards the nurse.
"But she told me you live together," she began, puzzled.
"It's complicated," I cut in once more, my tone leaving no room for further inquiry. The nurse nodded, though I could tell she struggled to grasp the situation fully. Clearing her throat, she continued, "She had some stomach discomfort, nothing serious. It just means the baby is getting ready." A smile crept onto her face. "Congratulations, anyway. And if it happens again, don't give her any medication. She needs hot tea or milk, but no medication. Take good care of your... your girlfriend?"
OH MY she's delusional! I'M MARRIED. I love Jenna, for God's sake. It grated on my nerves that anyone would entertain the notion of me being involved with Olivia. I couldn't help but feel the need to clarify, but this time, with more finesse.
"I'm married, and she's my surrogate mother," I stated with forced cordiality, attempting a smile that probably came off more as a grimace. The nurse's eyes widened, and she quickly apologized.
I hoped she understood now. How could she possibly believe such a preposterous notion? Olivia was nothing compared to Jenna. I needed to calm down, to rationalize.
Later, in the car with Olivia on our way back home, my mind wandered to Jenna, undoubtedly worried sick. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I couldn't answer while driving. What if it was Jenna ? Had she somehow gotten my number?
"Olivia, could you please retrieve my phone from my pocket?" I requested, feeling a tinge of discomfort at her hand on my thigh. Nevertheless, she complied with a broad smile, perhaps hoping to bridge some gap between us, but I found her efforts irritating. It was futile.
"It's a number," she announced, presenting my phone to me. Surely, it was Jenna, I didn't have her number saved.
"Answer it," I instructed hastily before the call went to voicemail. Relief washed over me as she picked up.
"Hello?... No, she's driving... She doesn't want to talk to you, we're going to the hotel for the night, and she's very excited."
It takes me a few moments to process what she's saying. Is she genuinely uttering those words? But she's crazy! I glance at her, she erupts into laughter. Jenna probably ended the call. She locks eyes with me, ceasing her laughter as she registers my shocked and angered expression. How could she speak like that to Jenna? She's married, and it will undoubtedly wound her. Jenna must be in tears by now. Her heart must be shattered, and she'll likely distance herself from me. Jenna will depart, and she'll harbor resentment towards me indefinitely. I can't bear the thought of losing the love of my life, especially to this foolish and promiscuous individual, reminiscent of all the other girls in the world (excluding my mother and friends). I'm rendered speechless. The fear of her departure consumes me to the point where I impulsively dial her number, heedless of the potential repercussions.
We finally arrived, and I leap out of the car, eager to reunite with my love. Uncertainty gnaws at me—will she still be here, or has she left? Anger simmers within me, threatening to consume me entirely. The mere thought of confronting her fills me with a primal urge to lash out. Yet, I'm restrained by the knowledge that she carries our future child.
I sprint towards the front door, my heart racing with a mixture of dread and longing. Will she be waiting for me inside, or will I find an empty house echoing with the ghosts of our fractured love? Fear grips me so tightly that I stumble on the stairs, crashing down in a clumsy heap. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I force myself to my feet and race to the bedroom. My heart feels as though it's being torn from my chest, shattered into a million irreparable pieces. The room is empty, devoid of her presence. The bed lies neatly made, untouched as if she had never graced it with her presence.
She can't be gone. She wouldn't leave, not because of that other woman. The weight of despair crushes me, and I collapse, utterly defeated. Tears stream down my face, unstoppable and raw.
Jenna is gone.
We don't separate because something went wrong. We separate because we've tried everything, and nothing is getting better. -J
YOU ARE READING
FORCED MARRIAGE | Jenna Ortega x Female Reader
FanfictionYou've been destined to someone since the age of 13. Someone you develop a strong dislike for. Someone you promised yourself to hate until your last breath. But you didn't expect that someone would be a girl named Jenna Ortega.
