Unconventional

Right

Emilio had been right all along.

After a month of living in his house, sharing his bed, Jennifer found out she was pregnant. Emilio had insisted from the start that this was how her life was meant to be, that this was the future she should accept. He'd even booked a doctor for her—a woman who made house calls. Jennifer remembered the doctor's calm demeanor, the state-of-the-art equipment she brought with her, and how everything about the visit screamed money.

Then the results came in: she was pregnant.

From that moment, everything changed. Emilio kept her under his watch constantly, never letting her out of his sight. Gone were the days of hitting the gym or going out with friends. He was always home, always there, and always expecting her to be right by his side. To her surprise, he became surprisingly attentive, making sure she followed every piece of advice the doctor gave. Morning yoga sessions, clean eating, no processed foods—it was like he was molding her into the perfect image of a mother. And as strange as it seemed, there were fleeting moments where Jennifer thought she could actually fall for him, if things had started this way. If he had been this caring from the beginning, maybe... maybe she wouldn't hate him so much.

But deep down, she knew. Emilio hadn't really changed. He still mocked her, still belittled her every chance he got.

"Slow down, no one's stealing your food," he sneered one night at dinner as she reached for another bite.

Jennifer froze, the warmth of the meal turning cold in her mouth. She set her fork down, glancing up at him. "Leave me alone," she muttered, her voice tight.

But Emilio just laughed, leaning back in his chair. "Fucking pig," he said, his voice dripping with contempt.

Her heart clenched, the words cutting deeper than they should have. She glared at him, anger sparking behind her eyes. This was the man she was supposed to rely on? This was the father of her child?

"Why won't you actually marry me?" she demanded, her voice trembling. "You call me your wife, but there's no ring, no wedding, nothing."

He looked at her, his expression cold and indifferent.

"You're not the type of girl who needs all that," he said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Jennifer stared at him, disbelief tightening her chest. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her voice breaking.

He sighed impatiently. "Look at yourself, Jenny. You know exactly what I mean. You're so... homely. You're not the type who deserves all that fancy wedding crap." He waved his hand dismissively. "But if it'll shut you up, I can grab a ring from Walmart or something. That's more your speed anyway."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Tears welled up in her eyes as she sat there, staring at him. He thought she was ugly? After everything, after forcing her into his life, after trapping her here, he still thought she was beneath him.

"Why are you doing this, then?" she asked, her voice cracking. "Why keep me here if I'm so... unworthy to you? Why would you do this to me?"

Emilio's smirk widened. "Because you were easy, Jenny. Look at you—no one else wanted you, not really. I made you mine because I could. You bent over for me so easily, begging me to take you. You should thank me that I didn't just pass you around my buddies."

Jennifer's heart raced, her mind spinning. "What if I find someone who actually wants to marry me?" she whispered, the question barely escaping her lips.

He laughed—a cruel, bitter sound. "Marry you? You're pregnant with my kid, Jenny. You really think some guy's gonna take you now, with my baby inside you? You're stuck with me. You belong to me."

That's when it hit her like a slap to the face. This had been his plan all along. He never loved her. He didn't even care about her. He wanted to trap her, tie her down with his child so she could never leave. He wanted her powerless, dependent, without a job, without money, without options.

Her chest tightened, panic rising. How had she not seen this sooner? She hadn't worked in months—he made sure of that. But she still had a little money saved. Enough for a motel room for a few weeks, maybe.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

She had to leave. She had to get out, before it was too late.

———

Emilio slammed the door behind him, his heavy boots echoing through the hallway as he stepped inside. The air in the house felt off, too quiet. Normally, by now, Jennifer would be in the kitchen, setting out dinner or in the living room curled up with a book. But tonight, the house was still.

"Jen?" he called, his voice booming through the silence.

No answer.

He frowned, tossing his keys onto the table as he scanned the space. Something felt... wrong. There was no noise, no movement, no sign of her anywhere. His gaze shifted to the corner where her shoes usually were—gone. The tension in his body sharpened, his muscles coiling as he stormed through the house, checking room after room. The bedroom was empty, her usual clutter absent. The closet door was slightly ajar, and that's when he noticed it—her clothes were missing.

Panic rippled through him as he flung the closet door open fully, rifling through the hangers. Her bags were gone too. His heart raced, the realization sinking in.

She'd left.

He tore through the dresser drawers, pulling out handfuls of nothing—empty. Her perfume, her makeup, her favorite sweater—all gone. A cold, bitter fury spread through his chest as the truth set in. Jennifer had packed her things and left while he was at work.

"That fucking bitch," he hissed through clenched teeth, his hands shaking with rage.

He grabbed his phone from his pocket and dialed her number, pacing furiously around the room as it rang. Over and over, it rang until finally, it went straight to voicemail.

"Jennifer!" he growled into the phone, his voice low and dangerous. "Where the hell are you? You think you can just leave me? You think you can run? I own you! You're carrying my kid, you're not going anywhere! You better get your ass back here, or you're gonna regret it. Do you hear me?" He ended the call, his hand shaking as he tossed the phone onto the bed.

His mind raced, thoughts spiraling. How dare she? After everything he'd done for her—giving her a home, taking care of her, making sure she was set for life. He had given her everything, and this was how she repaid him? By running like a coward? She couldn't survive without him. He knew that. She didn't have the money, the connections. She was nobody without him.

He stormed into the bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink so hard his knuckles turned white. His reflection glared back at him in the mirror, seething with fury. She thought she could escape him, that she could just pack up and leave like she had any control over her life.

But she was wrong. Dead wrong.

With renewed determination, Emilio grabbed his phone again and started making calls. If she thought she could disappear, she was sorely mistaken. He knew people—people who could track her down. He'd find her. And when he did, she'd learn just how impossible it was to run from him.