Chapter 4

Valerie woke to the sound of hurried footsteps and the soft rustle of plastic bags.

For a moment, she thought she was dreaming.

Then—

“Val!”

Julia’s voice cracked as she rushed to the bedside, nearly dropping everything she was holding. Paper bags thudded onto the chair, the scent of warm arroz caldo and bread filling the sterile hospital air.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Julia said, eyes glossy as she grabbed Valerie’s hand. “Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to watch your best friend collapse in front of you?”

Valerie swallowed hard. “Juls… I’m sorry.”

Julia shook her head, already pulling a chair closer and sitting down. “Don’t apologize. Just—” Her voice faltered. “Just tell me you’re okay.”

Valerie hesitated.

“I’m… alive,” she said quietly.

Julia studied her face, the hollowness beneath her eyes, the way her fingers trembled even while resting. Then her gaze drifted—to Valerie’s IV, the chart at the foot of the bed, the tight way Valerie kept her other hand near her stomach.

Something clicked.

Julia’s smile faded.

“Val…” she said slowly. “Why did the nurse ask me if I was a family member?”

Valerie’s lips parted. Closed.

“Why did the doctor ask how far along you might be?”

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Julia’s breath hitched. “Valerie,” she whispered. “Don’t tell me—”

Tears welled in Valerie’s eyes.

“I didn’t know,” she said quickly, voice shaking. “I swear I didn’t know until today.”

Julia’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Oh my God.”

Valerie broke.

She sobbed, shoulders trembling, breath coming in broken gasps as everything she had been holding back poured out. Julia stood instantly and wrapped her arms around her, holding her tightly like she was afraid Valerie might disappear if she let go.

“You’re pregnant?” Julia whispered.

Valerie nodded against her shoulder.

“How?” Julia asked softly. “Val… how did this happen?”

Valerie pulled back, wiping her eyes with trembling fingers.

“There was a night,” she began. “Two months ago. At the club. I was cleaning VIP rooms.”

Julia stiffened.

“There was this man,” Valerie continued, voice barely above a whisper. “He was drugged. Someone slipped something into his drink. He wasn’t himself. I wasn’t supposed to be there.”

Her throat closed.

“He said he’d take responsibility,” she said bitterly. “He said he’d find me again. But he never came back.”

Julia’s face had gone pale.

“Do you know who he is?” she asked.

Valerie nodded slowly. “Drugo Hawthorne.”

Julia sucked in a sharp breath.

“That—Val, that’s dangerous,” she said immediately. “Do you know what kind of man that is?”

Valerie shook her head. “I didn’t even know his name until after.”

Julia gripped her hands tighter. “Does your family know?”

“No,” Valerie said quickly. “They can’t. If they find out—”

“They’ll kick you out,” Julia finished, fear sharp in her eyes.

Valerie nodded.

Julia exhaled shakily and pressed her forehead against Valerie’s. “You’re not alone. You hear me? Whatever happens, I’m here.”

Valerie wanted to believe that.

---

She was discharged two days later with instructions she barely knew how to follow—proper meals, rest, prenatal checkups.

Things she had never been allowed.

Valerie went back to her life like nothing had changed.

She cleaned floors at the club until her back screamed in protest. She stood behind the café counter for hours, nausea curling in her stomach while she rang up orders with practiced smiles. She sat in class fighting exhaustion so deep it felt bone-deep.

She hid her pregnancy beneath oversized sweaters and careful movements. She ate when she could—sometimes in secret, sometimes only what Julia slipped into her bag.

At night, she locked her bedroom door and cried silently, one hand pressed over her stomach.

Just a little longer, she told herself.

Just until I figure something out.

But the truth has a way of finding the light.

One evening, Valerie came home late from work, feet aching, head pounding. Her room looked wrong the moment she stepped inside.

Her drawer was open.

Her heart stopped.

“No,” she whispered, rushing forward.

The hospital papers were gone.

She barely had time to breathe before her mother’s voice sliced through the house.

“VALERIE.”

Her blood turned cold.

She stepped into the living room to find her parents seated stiffly, her sister standing nearby with a cruel smile. The hospital records lay on the table like a death sentence.

“What is this?” her father demanded, slamming his hand down.

Valerie’s lips trembled. “I—I was going to tell you—”

“Tell us what?” her mother snapped. “That you’re pregnant? That you’re a disgrace?”

Her sister laughed. “I knew it. She’s always been shameless.”

“I was assaulted,” Valerie said desperately. “I didn’t plan this. I didn’t even know—”

Her father stood abruptly.

“Enough,” he said coldly. “You have brought nothing but shame to this family.”

Her mother pointed toward the door. “Get out.”

Valerie’s knees buckled.

“Please,” she begged. “I’m still studying. I’m still working. I can fix this—”

“You fixed nothing,” her father said. “Pack your things and leave.”

She was given ten minutes.

Ten minutes to pack her life into a small bag.

When Valerie stepped outside, the door slammed shut behind her.

The sound echoed louder than any slap.

She stood there in the dark, clutching her bag to her chest, tears streaming down her face, her body shaking from cold and fear.

She had nowhere to go.

And somewhere deep inside her, a fragile heartbeat continued on—unaware that the world had just taken everything else away.

Valerie took a trembling breath.

For the first time in her life, she was truly alone.

And she was carrying more than just herself into the night.