“So that’s my child?” Tim pins me to the wall.
“No, not yours! He’s my future husband’s!”
“Ha!” He laughs. “That old man you’re trying to attach him to? Don’t spin stories, Varya—he can’t have children. Once more, I’m asking—he’s mine?”
“And if he is yours? What difference does it make if you don’t remember anything! If you despise me—” I can’t take it anymore. I shout, tired of his hatred. “Yes, it seems I don’t remember…” He grabs me by the waist and presses me sharply to him. “It’s time to fill in the gaps. And I don’t despise you at all…” His lips crash onto mine. I slept with a rich guy at a party. He doesn’t remember our night and he hates me. But what do I do if I love him and am carrying his child?