𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀 - Alejandro balde

☆ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 ☆

📸 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀 📸

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the group in stunned silence. Michael, ever the instigator, clapped his hands. "Well, that went well, didn't it?"

Katie turned on him, her patience finally snapping. "Get out, Michael. Before I drag you out myself."

Michael raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you, Amira. Secrets have a way of catching up with you."

As Michael left, Luna closed the door behind him, locking it for good measure. She turned to Amira, her expression softening. "Are you okay?"

"No," Amira whispered, sinking onto the bed. "I've ruined everything."

Aaliyah sat beside her, rubbing her back soothingly. "You didn't ruin anything, Amira. You did what you thought was best. But... you have to tell Jamal."

Amira's head shot up, panic filling her eyes. "No. He can't know. It'll destroy him."

"It's not just about him," Luna said gently. "It's about Amara. She deserves to know her father."

Amira shook her head. "He's moved on. He's happy. I can't take that away from him."

𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤: 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎
Amira sat on the edge of her bed, the little white stick in her trembling hands confirming what she'd been dreading. The two pink lines stared back at her, unyielding and absolute. Her heart pounded in her chest, and a thousand thoughts raced through her mind, none of which she could fully grasp. She was seventeen. This wasn't supposed to happen—not now, not like this.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she hugged her knees to her chest, her body shaking with silent sobs. She wasn't ready for this. But even as panic overwhelmed her, a small, fragile thought pushed its way to the surface: You're going to keep this baby. The realization made her cry even harder, not from regret but from the sheer weight of what that decision meant.

She wiped her tears hastily when her bedroom door creaked open. Her mother, Alana, stepped inside, her elegant features instantly softening when she saw her daughter's tear-streaked face.

"Amira?" Alana's voice was gentle, concerned. She sat down beside her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Amira couldn't speak. She just held out the pregnancy test, her hands still trembling. For a moment, Alana froze, her eyes widening slightly. But she quickly composed herself, wrapping her arms around her daughter.

"Oh, Amira," she whispered, stroking her hair. "It's going to be okay. I promise you."

The words made Amira cry harder, burying her face in her mother's shoulder. "How can it be okay, Mama? I'm seventeen. I—I don't know how to do this."

Alana pulled back just enough to look her daughter in the eyes. "You don't have to do this alone. We'll figure it out together, as a family."

Later that evening, Amira sat in the living room with her parents, Alana and Achraf. Her father was pacing, his hands on his hips as he processed what his daughter had just told them.

"Pregnant?" Achraf repeated, his voice strained but not angry. He stopped pacing and looked at her, his eyes filled with concern. "Does he know?"

Amira shook her head, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "No. And I'm not going to tell him."

Both her parents looked at her in shock. "What do you mean you're not going to tell him?" her father asked, sitting down beside her.

"Jamal's leaving for Germany in a week," Amira said, her voice breaking. "This is his dream—playing for Bayern Munich. I can't take that away from him. He's worked so hard for this, and I won't let him give it up because of me."

"Amira," Alana began gently, "you don't know how he would react. He has a right to know, and so does your child."

"I know he'd do the right thing," Amira said, her voice trembling. "He'd stay, and he'd try to be there for me and the baby. But he'd resent me for it. And I'd resent myself for holding him back. I can't do that to him, Mama. I won't."

Her parents exchanged a glance, both understanding her logic but struggling to accept it. Finally, her mother spoke.

"If you're sure about this, then we need to think about what's next. You'll need support, Amira—more than just us. The media will notice, and they'll ask questions."

Amira's father nodded. "Your mother's right. If we're going to protect your privacy and give you a chance to raise this baby without constant scrutiny, we need a plan."

Alana hesitated before adding, "There's another option. If it becomes too much, I could say the baby is mine."

Amira looked at her mother in shock. "What?"

"We've seen it before," Alana explained. "Celebrities, public figures—sometimes they make arrangements like this to shield their children. If you can't handle the pressure, we can tell the media that the baby is your sister, not your daughter."

"No," Amira said quickly, shaking her head. "I can't lie to Amara. She deserves to know the truth. And so does Jamal, eventually."

Her mother placed a hand on hers. "I'm not saying we should do it, only that it's an option. But if you make that promise—to tell the baby and Jamal the truth one day—you have to keep it. They deserve that, Amira."

Amira nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I promise."

Three days later, as Jamal stood in her doorway, his smile as bright as ever, Amira felt like she was breaking in two. He was so excited about his future, so full of hope and determination. She couldn't ruin that for him—not now.

"I'm going to miss you," he said, pulling her into a hug.

Amira clung to him, trying to memorize the way he felt, the way he smelled, the sound of his voice. "I'm going to miss you too," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"You'll visit, right?" he asked, pulling back to look at her.

"Of course," she lied, forcing a smile.

Jamal studied her for a moment, his brow furrowing. "You've been quiet lately. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said quickly, avoiding his gaze. "Just...sad you're leaving."

He cupped her face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "I'll come back. I promise."

Amira nodded, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything else. She watched him leave, her heart breaking as she let him walk out of her life, knowing he was taking a piece of her with him—a piece he didn't even know existed yet.

A week later, the movers packed up their life in England, and the family relocated to Barcelona. Amira stared out the window of the plane, her hand resting protectively on her stomach. She was terrified of what the future held, but she knew one thing for certain: she would do whatever it took to give her baby the best life possible—even if it meant breaking her own heart.

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