Twenty-Three Years of Being Single, Yet Pregnant

Recently, I've been feeling unwell. Taking advantage of the weekend, I decided to go to the hospital for a check-up.

The doctor glanced at my report and asked why my boyfriend wasn't with me.

"I don't have a boyfriend," I replied.

He gave me a puzzled look and double-checked the report.

"You're one month pregnant," he said.

I've been single for 23 years and have never had a boyfriend. So where did this baby come from?

1

The news hit me like a bolt of lightning. I had no idea how I even made it home. The first thing I did was tell my best friend, Doris Brown. She's not only my best friend but also my landlord. When I had just graduated from university and couldn't find a job, I felt lost in this unfamiliar city. It was she who took me in, promising I could pay the rent after I found a job. At that time, I had no money, so her help was a godsend. More than that, she supported me in every aspect of life, like an older sister. Very soon, we became inseparable good friends. Handing me a cup of hot water, Doris asked me to think carefully. Had I been with anyone recently? No matter how hard I racked my brain, I couldn't recall anything. After all, if something like that had happened, I would surely remember. Doris then showed me a bizarre news article.

A woman had reportedly gotten pregnant after soaking in a hot spring.

"Don't you remember? We went to a hot spring together last month," she said.

It's true that we went to a hot spring last month, but this story seemed too far-fetched to believe.

There's no scientific basis for it.

To be safe, I decided to investigate further.

Sometimes, unexpected things happen—like me getting pregnant without knowing how.

I checked the surveillance footage from that day but found nothing unusual.

The spa manager provided me with a water quality report, showing that the water was disinfected daily, with all records intact.

After a whole day of searching, I came up empty-handed.

I took the water report to the hospital and asked the doctor if there was any possibility of getting pregnant from a hot spring.

The doctor immediately dismissed it.

"Do you really believe in such fake news?"

Despair washed over me as I sat on the couch, staring blankly. Was this really some kind of supernatural occurrence?

It was Doris' next question that jolted me back to reality.

"Didn't you get drunk last month?"

I had. On the 10th of last month, during a company outing, I got wasted in a karaoke bar.

2

Our sales department consists of six people—four men and two women.

To celebrate landing a big client, I treated the team to dinner, followed by karaoke.

I drank so much that I passed out in the karaoke booth. I had no idea how I got home afterward.

Doris' reminder sent chills down my spine.

Could it be that I was assaulted in that booth?

That was the only time I had lost consciousness last month, and the timeline matched. I decided to report it to the police right away.

But Doris stopped me. She advised me not to blow things up before I had all the facts. Losing a job was a small issue. Losing my dignity was a bigger one.

After all, no woman wants her unexpected pregnancy to become public knowledge.

Following her advice, I chose to investigate first.

We went back to the karaoke bar where the incident had occurred and found the manager.

Upon hearing our inquiry, he immediately became defensive.

"If you're here to have fun, you're welcome. But if you're here to stir up trouble, I'll call security."

Clearly, this place wasn't exactly aboveboard. Otherwise, they wouldn't be so afraid of someone checking the surveillance footage.

The situation escalated, and eventually, the bar's owner got involved.

He pulled me aside, and I explained everything in detail.

He didn't seem surprised by my story, quietly saying, "I can show you the footage, but you can't copy it or take it with you."

A sense of foreboding crept over me. The owner likely knew more than he was letting on.

Perhaps this kind of thing wasn't uncommon in their establishment.

In order to see the footage, I had no choice but to agree to his terms.

I started watching from the point where I passed out on the couch.

My colleagues continued drinking and singing, with nothing out of the ordinary happening.

I watched the screen intently, making sure not to miss a single detail.

Sure enough, after a while, a group of scantily clad women entered the booth.

The women lined up for my male colleagues to pick from.

Besides me, there was one other female colleague, but she clearly didn't enjoy the scene. She got up, patted me on the shoulder, and, seeing I was unresponsive, grabbed her bag and left the booth.

It seemed that she knew it was the male colleagues' program next, so she tactfully left.

I was the only one left in the room, lying quietly on the sofa.

The male colleagues, oblivious to my presence, each picked a woman and began dancing provocatively.

As expected, this KTV was not a formal venue, and the women were getting more and more selfless as they danced, even unconsciously dancing face to face.

Things quickly escalated as the men cheered and drank, getting more and more excited.

Suddenly, I stirred from my sleep, struggling to my feet and stumbling toward the restroom.

I must have been desperate to relieve myself, which is what woke me up.

To be precise, I crawled rather than walked, and I didn't even close the bathroom door once inside.

After a long while, I still hadn't come out. I must have passed out inside.

Then, I saw one of my male colleagues get up and head toward the restroom.

My heart leapt into my throat as I recognized him—it was Dave White, the sales manager.

Dave was young and successful, already holding a managerial position at a young age. He was quiet and composed.

He was the one who recruited me. He seldom interacted with us at work and liked to be alone. In fact, after working with him for over half a year, I hardly knew him.

As time passed, he remained in the restroom with me for over half an hour.

My breath quickened. I could already imagine what had happened in there.

Eventually, Dave emerged, supporting me as we left the booth together.

He grabbed my bag and carried me out of the bar.

The men and women in the room were still dancing enthusiastically, completely unaware that we had left.

3

I asked the bar owner to show me the entrance footage.

Sure enough, the camera showed Dave carrying me out and hailing a cab.

I noted the taxi's license plate number and contacted the taxi company, eventually tracking down the driver.

The driver was instantly irritable when he answered the phone.

"Aren't you the drunk girl who threw up in my car? I didn't even charge you for cleaning! Now you've got the nerve to bother me."

I quickly waved my hands. "You've misunderstood. I just want to know where the man took me."

Still annoyed, he replied, "I don't know. You two got out halfway. How should I know where you went?"

"Where did we get out?"

The driver, unwilling to continue the conversation, shooed me off.

"I don't know. Just leave me alone and let me work."

I was helpless facing the taxi driver's indifference.

With no other option, I pulled out 200 dollars and handed it over.

"Brother, help me think about this carefully. This is really very important to me."

Taking the money, the driver's attitude immediately softened.

"You were originally headed for Flower Garden, but got out halfway. And I really don't know where did you go after that."

Flower Garden was where Dave lived.

He must have ulterior motives for bringing me unconscious to his residence.

But we got off halfway, there may be some unforeseen situation.

"Can you tell me exactly where we got out?"

The driver thought for a moment. "Somewhere near the riverside by H Bridge."

Desperate for more surveillance footage, I prepared to call the police.

But Doris stopped me, signaling with her eyes to stay calm.

Just when I was at a loss, the taxi driver mentioned something that lit a spark of hope.

"There are street cameras. You can view them online now."

Back home, I opened my laptop and searched the footage.

The taxi stopped near the bridge, and Dave helped me out, guiding me into a nearby grove.

I watched the screen, my breathing quickening.

He took me out of sight, and I couldn't see what happened next.

Why did he take me into the woods?

"Unbelievable," Doris said, slamming the table. "That beast!"

I stared at the screen, unable to utter a word.

Time passed by every second.

Half an hour later, Dave reappeared, carrying me back to the road.

He hailed another taxi, and this time, I remembered the license plate number and called the driver.

The driver was very easy-going and directly told us our destination - Flower Garden.

My legs buckled as I nearly fainted.

Doris caught me just in time.

"That monster! How could he do something so vile?"

My mind was in turmoil. I could hardly breathe.

"Doris, help me call the police."

But Doris stopped me again, analyzing the situation with calm reasoning.

"If you report him, your life could be ruined."

I was only 23, with my whole future ahead of me. If this incident left a stain on my reputation, I'd regret it forever.

"But if I don't report him, how can I let him walk free?" I protested.

Doris shook her head. "What I mean is to settle this privately."

I understood what she meant. She was suggesting that I negotiate compensation with Dave privately.

"If you report him, he'll get arrested and do a few years in prison, but it won't benefit you. Settling privately, though, could mean a large sum of money—even enough to secure your future."

She made a good point. Reporting him would cost me my job and leave me open to gossip, possibly even making it hard to find a boyfriend in the future.

But privately settling was different. Dave was young and successful, and to protect his reputation, he would likely do anything to meet my demands.

4

The next day, I decided to confront Dave.

I slipped into his office while no one was around.

Dave, dressed in a sleek black suit, sat at his desk, busy writing, completely unaware of my presence.

"Manager White, I..."

Before I could finish, he interrupted me.

"Why didn't you knock before coming in?"

He glanced up at me, his handsome face looking particularly cold.

I took a deep breath and slapped the test report from my pocket onto his desk.

He picked it up, glanced at it, and a flicker of confusion passed through his eyes.

"What's this?"

At this time, I didn't care about the relationship between superiors and subordinates and spoke frankly.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?"

He furrowed his brow and double-checked the report.

"Are you pregnant?"

His astonishment ignited a wave of anger within me. He usually appeared so righteous, but deep down, he was just a hypocrite.

"If you're a real man, you should own up to what you've done."

He stared at me coldly, without saying a word.

From his eyes, I could see confusion, as if he was saying, "What does your pregnancy have to do with me?"

But I was confident—there was no way he could deny it.

"The 10th of last month. I don't need to spell it out for you, do I?"

He didn't respond. Instead, he picked up his phone from the desk and dialed a number.

"Hey, I won't be attending the meeting this morning."

After hanging up, he grabbed his car keys from the desk and quickly walked toward the door.

"Come with me."