Wrong Injection

CHAPTER 42

Sultan emerged from the bathroom, looking refreshed in a crisp white pair of shorts and a singlet, while I stood there, wrapped in a towel, waiting for Bella to bring me some fresh clothes. I hadn't planned to sleep over, so I didn't have any spare clothes with me. "What's taking Bella so long?" Sultan asked, drying his hair with a white towel.

"Gabby," I replied, and he chuckled. Just then, a knock at the door interrupted us. Sultan walked over to answer it, still towel-drying his hair. I stood there, watching hopefully, expecting it to be Bella with my clothes.

"Good morning, Mom," I heard Sultan greet his mother, and I quickly joined them at the door.

"Good morning, Sarah," I greeted with a warm smile.

"Good morning, sweetheart. How are you and my grandchild doing?" Sarah asked, her eyes sparkling with warmth, and I felt a sudden jolt of surprise.

"We're... good, yeah," I stuttered, forcing a nervous smile.

"Awesome," she replied, her gaze lingering on me before she noticed my attire. "But why are you still in a towel?" she asked, and I was relieved when Bella appeared just in time.

"Hello everyone," Bella chimed in, handing me a neatly folded stack of clothes.

"Hi Bella," Sarah greeted warmly.

"Sorry I kept you waiting," Bella apologized, and I took the clothes from her, grateful.

"Thanks," I said, smiling at her in appreciation.

"It's good to know you two are friends," Sarah said, smiling warmly at Bella and me. "Breakfast is ready; Bella, why don't you help me set the table while you both get ready?"

"Of course, let's go," Bella replied, and the two of them headed out, leaving me to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Sarah is sweet," I commented, rummaging through the bag of clothes Bella had brought.

"Yeah, she is," Sultan agreed.

"Oh no," I exclaimed, holding up the top and realizing it wouldn't fit anymore.

"What's wrong?" Sultan asked, concern etched on his face.

"This doesn't fit anymore," I said, disappointment creeping into my voice.

"It's okay, I'm sure my top will fit," he replied, striding over to his closet. "Here, try this," he said, tossing a big yellow top in my direction. I caught it mid-air and smiled in gratitude.

"Thanks," I said, slipping it over my head. The shirt enveloped me in his scent, and I felt a flutter in my chest. He stepped behind me, his hands gently cradling my baby bump as we gazed at each other's reflections in the massive mirror.

"You look amazing in my shirt," he whispered, his breath tickling my ear, and I closed my eyes, savoring the gentle massage on my belly. "I love it when she kicks," he murmured, and I couldn't help but smile.

"So, when are you telling your mom the truth?" I asked, my voice firm, and he slowly turned me around to face him.

"I thought we were done discussing this," he said, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone, and I shook my head, my expression resolute.

"Sultan, this is wrong," I pleaded, my voice laced with urgency. "I know you don't want to hurt your mom's feelings, but the sooner you tell her, the better."

He gazed at me intently before asking, "Does your baby have a father?" I let out a deep sigh, frustration mounting from his stubbornness.

"No," I replied curtly.

"Why not?" he pressed, his eyes narrowing.

"I don't know," I said, trying to brush off the question.

"Milani, you can't expect me to believe you don't know," his tone skeptical. "What exactly are you hiding from me? Did you just wake up one day and find out you were pregnant?" His words dripped with doubt, and I could feel his gaze piercing through me.

"Exactly, exactly the point," I said, my voice rising in frustration, and he looked at me like I was crazy. "Sultan, let's not do this, please," I begged, trying to deflect the conversation.

"Milani, no one gets pregnant like that," he said, his eyes boring into mine, as if searching for the truth.

"Well my fate is different," I said, trying to brush it off.

"Come on, Lani," his tone implying he didn't believe me. I could see the skepticism in his eyes, and I knew he thought I was being dishonest with him.

"Sultan, let's not talk about my unborn child anymore," I said firmly. "Just find a way to tell Sarah you're not the father, please."

"If you claim your child doesn't have a father, then why don't you want to make me her father?" he asked, catching me off guard, and I stood there, speechless, staring at him. "I don't know why I feel so connected to this child," his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and longing. "There's just something about her, but I can't put my finger on it." His words trailed off as he gently touched my baby bump, and I was at a loss for words.

"Sultan, breakfast... I'll just join Sarah and Bella," I said, turning away, tears welling up in my eyes. I couldn't articulate my emotions, so I simply walked away, leaving him standing there.