CHAPTER 7

ELENA’S POV

"Who is the father of that thing you are carrying, Elena?" Mrs Lawrence's voice echoed through the sitting room, full of irritation and anger.

I felt the weight of her question push down on me, filling me with guilt and resentment.

I strained to compose myself, my heart beating as I searched for the appropriate words. "I...I don't know," I muttered, flushed from humiliation.

As the seconds ticked by, all I wanted was to disappear into thin air, free of the implicit accusations and bearing the burden of my doubt.

I heard that old wall clock ticking away in the background, mixed with the eager chatter of the stewards who were eager to listen to Mrs Lawrence's conversation.

"Once again, my mother-in-law's voice sliced through the sitting room air like a rusty blade. 'Who is the father of that child?' she demanded. I jolted back to reality, a guilty flush creeping up my nerves."

I tried to reply to Mrs Lawrence.

“I…I can ex…p…lain” I muttered trying to catch my already