After I was Pregnant with Brother's Child

I was homeless and took advantage of the young Timothy Barnett.

When we met again, he was no longer the person he used to be.

He had fallen into a life of idleness at bars, trying to exact revenge on me, who seemed indifferent.

But he didn't know that during our years apart, I had given birth to his child...

1

As Timothy lay in bed with Joyce Stevens, I was tucked away in his cloakroom, folding the counterfeit designer T-shirts he had bought in bulk.

"Don't... "

Joyce's voice was tinged with a playful protest, "It's broad daylight. If your mom comes home from work and sees us, it won't be good."

"Don't worry, she's definitely working overtime. Besides, she's been waiting to have a grandchild for ages." Timothy replied without hesitation. His movements were so vigorous that I could feel the vibrations through the closet door.

"Well, who said anything about having kids... mmm... " Her voice trailed off, gradually drowned out by the rhythmic sounds that followed.

Bored, I put on my headphones and cranked up the volume of a rock song on repeat.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed. The clothes were long sorted, and my stomach started growling. I took off my headphones and found the intense sounds had subsided. I quietly opened the door a crack.

The curtains did an excellent job of blocking out the light, leaving the room dim and hard to see. I held my breath, hesitating whether to step out.

Suddenly, the door swung open with a loud noise. "Isabella, when did you become a voyeur?" Timothy's voice was laced with anger as he stoutly grabbed me by the neck and yanked me out of the cloakroom.

I stiffened my head, refusing to argue, and turned on my phone screen. The tattoo on Timothy's shoulder glowed ominously-a graph of an XY axis. I looked away, crouching to pick up the two T-shirts I had set aside, and said honestly, "It's Vance's birthday. I'm here to take some clothes for him."

"Vance?" Timothy leaned against the doorframe, scanning me with a thoughtful yet mocking gaze. "Did you get him into bed?"

I knew nothing good would come from his mouth, so I ignored him.

"Are you deaf? Or are you sure you will be so comfortably kept by a rich man that you can't be bothered with your brother?" Timothy unexpectedly kicked me in the waist. I fell to the ground, caught off guard by the pain.

The more he acted like this, the less I wanted to speak. I bit my lip, supporting myself on the floor in silence.

"Isabella, don't think about running away. If I don't let you go, you won't escape, " Timothy threatened, as if he wanted to engulf me in the darkness.

I didn't understand him. I was the one who pushed Kellan down the stairs, and he just happened to witness it. He could have subtly given me a hint, so why did he have to act so angrily and lose his composure?

I rubbed my waist and touched my abdomen, my gaze falling to the side behind him.

Joyce stood by the bedroom door, wrapped in a towel, looking quite uneasy.

"Joyce." I licked my lips, putting on a sweet smile to explain, "It's my boyfriend's birthday. I don't have much pocket money, so I came to my brother for a little help." With that, I waved the crumpled clothes in my hand, playfully sticking out my tongue.

The tense and awkward atmosphere eased. Joyce adjusted her towel, feigning a playful scold at Timothy, "Isabella, your boyfriend's birthday, huh? Timothy, Isabella is still a college student and hasn't started earning yet." She said, her voice full of charm. And she continued as if she was the master. "It's okay, take them. Your brother has plenty of clothes."

The faint light washed over Joyce's blushing face, and the phrase "a perfect match" floated in my mind, bringing a twinge of bitterness to my heart.

"You're the best, Joyce!" I continued my sweet-talking mode, quickly retreating from the darkness Timothy cast.

"By the way, Isabella." Joyce caught my arm just as I was about to escape Timothy's displeased gaze, "In a month, I'm marrying your brother. I'd like to invite you to be my bridesmaid. Would you?"

She shook my arm playfully. I thought, who could refuse such a charming girl's request? But next month? I was taken aback, uncertainly asking, "May 31st?"

"Yes, the last day of May."

With Joyce's joyful confirmation, I couldn't help but glance back at Timothy's still shadowed expression.

May 31st, that was the anniversary of Kellan's passing.

Did Timothy choose this date to bury himself into a grave too? The grave of marriage? I shook my head, dismissing the ominous thought that first crossed my mind.

Just now I wanted to immediately agree with resolve, but then I hesitated, seeing a fleeting sneer on Timothy's face.

"I'll think about it." I said as politely as possible after a brief silence, "I might have something going on."

Joyce's hand fell lightly from my arm, her initial excitement dissipating. She seemed uncomfortable, perhaps regretting her impulsive invitation, yet slightly displeased. After all, marrying into the Barnett family was seen as a step down in social status for her.

As Timothy's mother, Kacey, had praised, what did Timothy do to deserve such a well-bred, beautiful, and kind girl?

I pursed my lips and took Joyce's hand, not wanting to dampen her spirits or strain our sister-in-law relationship, and apologized softly.

"Joyce, thank you so much for inviting me and trusting me. But your wedding day is a joyous occasion, and I don't want to ruin it. That day, " I sniffed, hesitating but then solemnly clarifying, "that day is the anniversary of my father's passing, so I might not be able to attend."

Joyce was as shocked as I was when I learned Timothy chose May 31st for their wedding. "What do you mean?" Her clear eyes were filled with confusion. "Your father? Isn't that Timothy's... "

"No, " I interrupted her bluntly before she could finish, "No, just my biological father."

2

"How could that be?" Joyce was clearly bewildered. She looked at Timothy, then at me, as if trying to find a familial resemblance between us.

I was at a loss for words. This girl was as straightforward as her furrowed brows. She was about to enter marriage with a man whose family background she hadn't fully understood.

"I always thought you were siblings, just with different last names from your parents."

Her explanation made me lose control of my expression, and I did my best to purse my lips to hold back my laughter. It seemed that Timothy's ability to deceive was indeed impressive.

Finally, no longer just watching, Timothy stepped out of the shadows. He walked over to Joyce, reassuringly placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Joyce, it's not a big deal. My mom and Isabella's dad remarried. Later, her dad got sick and passed away. His only wish was for my mom to take care of her. She's my sister." Timothy explained calmly, thoughtfully adding, "Over the years, she's become as close as real siblings."

I felt the disgust and chill run down my spine. At this moment, he seemed like a two-faced person. In Joyce's eyes, he probably appeared as a warm-hearted brother. But to me, his ability to spin lies was masterful. The truth was, I shamelessly sought his protection, even going so far as to strip and climb into his cramped single bed just to avoid being kicked out. Yet, he...

"When is your boyfriend's birthday?" Timothy interrupted my thoughts, adopting a concerned elder's demeanor. "I might as well treat you both to a meal and see what he's like."

Sure enough, he always had ulterior motives.

I didn't want to stay any longer, so I made a few perfunctory remarks and replied obediently, "Vance is shy too. We'll definitely invite you and Joyce for dinner sometime! I have some school matters to attend to, so I must go now!" Without waiting for Timothy's response, I grabbed the clothes and dashed out the door.

I vaguely heard Joyce asking, "Why choose May 31 as the wedding date?"

But I ran too fast to catch Timothy's witty reply.

As I sprinted, I was easily pulled back to that early morning six years ago.

It was the day after Kellan was cremated and his photos were placed in the memorial hall. It was the fifth time I met Timothy, whom I barely knew. He was about to take his SAT exams, living at school and studying hard. Back then, Timothy was just a naive young man, dreaming of getting into a good university, finding a pretty girlfriend, and then working, marrying, and living a stable life.

How could I be so sure of his thoughts? Because after Kellan got involved with Timothy's mother, Kacey, my daily routine involved sleeping in Timothy's room. And I was forced to listen to their moves on bed filled with sweet words and bitter arguments through a wall. Naturally, I sought something new to distract myself, and Timothy's diary happened to be open for me to read.

Perhaps I had commandeered Timothy's room for too long, so long that I was reluctant to leave even when he returned.

Kacey, belatedly realizing her mistake in letting me stay without Timothy's consent, apologized and showed her maternal instincts. "Timothy, I'll change the sheets for you."

I naturally ended up sleeping in the living room, but even that seemed temporary under Kacey's guilty conscience.

"She'll be leaving soon." Kacey said casually while making the bed.

Leave? I would leave? My only relative was gone. Where could I go?

I sat in the living room, just as I had the first time I appeared at Timothy's house, blocking out the rest of the conversation. My mind was only focused on one thing that I wasn't leaving. So, what reason could I use to stay?

It was obvious. Kellan had no money, and I was only staying at Kacey's house because of his sweet-talking. What inheritance could I possibly get? He left me nothing but a pretty face, one that even he, as a father, coveted.

I didn't struggle much with my thoughts. I believed I understood Timothy through his diary-a simple, innocent high school boy.

From the moment I made up my mind, my heart began to beat rhythmically. Only I knew how exciting that sound was, pushing me through every second of silence and hesitation before I got up from the sofa.

Like a ghost, I silently slipped into Timothy's room and easily found my way to the foot of his bed.

The June weather hadn't turned hot yet, and the rain that night was persistent. The wind pounded rhythmically against the rusty window frames of the old apartment building, lulling people to sleep.

Timothy was sound asleep in the bed that had been mine just days before. He had helped with Kellan's funeral arrangements, understandably exhausted. I shed my thin nightwear and climbed into bed without hesitation.

Though it was disrespectful to remember the deceased at such a time, I thanked Kellan for making me familiar with the ways of men and women early on, and I was lacking only in practice.

Of course, Timothy was startled when he woke up, but what could he do? I had already caught him, and I could stifle his muffled cries.

He was indeed young and inexperienced, as was I, and he could sense my inexperience.

So that night, I cunningly secured my place to stay, and afterward, he learned what it took to become a real man.

3

"Where are you?"

My recollection abruptly ended as I stopped outside the security booth at the community gate, panting heavily. On the other end of the phone, Vance's voice rose in a demanding tone. Vance wasn't crazy, just spoiled by his parents, which gave him an arrogant personality.

"You're late for my birthday party? Do you even care about me, Isabella? Are you really my girlfriend?"

Vance's resentment buzzed in my ear. Usually, he spoke with a pretentious politeness, but this outburst showed he was genuinely upset. It was my fault for promising to spend the whole day with him, even swearing to put on a dazzling makeup to make him proud.

But now, not only was I disheveled and late, I had no time to freshen up my sweaty self.

"Well, " I stammered, unable to find a decent excuse, and in desperation, I lied, "I was buying you a couple of Gucci items, that's why I'm late."

Vance made a sound of surprise, as if weighing my excuse, then lowered his voice, "Just don't get my size wrong. I want to show them off later. Hurry up and get here!"

He hung up before I could respond. His slightly childish compromise made me want to laugh. Vance was genuinely adorable. I touched my belly. If possible, having him as the father of my child would be a blessing. I shook my head to clear my wandering thoughts and prepared to hail a cab to the party, but a new message abruptly blocked my path.

[Lucas has a fever, Children's Hospital, come quickly]-Kacey.

Vance and the warm breeze beside me were left behind, as I hurriedly flagged down a taxi.

Kacey, seemingly afraid I would delay, sent several voice messages in quick succession. When I didn't reply, she started a video call.

I glanced at the silent driver in the front seat and reluctantly answered the urgent call.

"Mommy, where are you?"

Lucas's soft voice came through the video, his cheeks flushed. His small head rested against Kacey's chest, his red eyes struggling to stay open, filled with discomfort.

"Mommy's on my way to the hospital." My nose tingled with emotion, but apart from this flat statement, I didn't want to say anything more to comfort the little baby.

Kacey gave me a timely break, "See, Grandma didn't lie to you. Mommy's coming. Be good, Lucas. We'll wait a little longer. Mommy will be here soon."

I had to admit, compared to me, who was absent more often than not, Kacey was a very responsible grandmother. She stayed with him every day, probably largely because she feared I would use this grandson as a reason to seek out her precious son. After all, Timothy had been kept in the dark about Lucas since his birth.

Lucas's arrival wasn't unexpected, because even after I slept with Timothy, Kacey decided to ask me to leave. She despised me for scheming against her innocent son, and she had no obligation to support me, because she and Kellan hadn't even gotten to the point of marriage.

But she underestimated my shamelessness and misjudged the desire intensity of Timothy's teenage years. He had a growing fondness for me, and I could tell from the way his gaze lingered on me. He couldn't resist his desire for my body, especially since the monotonous life of preparing for SAT exams was so dull. I wasn't exactly sweet, but for Timothy, trapped in his monotonous routine, I was a thrilling escape.