-12 September 2008-
Life had returned to normal—or so I told myself. After breaking up with Keiko, I threw myself back into my old habits. Flirting with girls, going out late, and claiming this reckless life was my youth, my right to enjoy. I never gave Keiko much thought after the breakup, and even when I heard she’d dropped out of school, I brushed it off. She was just another girl, another na in my past. Or so I thought.
Two weeks after her sudden departure, everything unraveled.
It was a Monday afternoon when my teacher called to the office. The air felt off as I walked through the quiet hallway. When I reached the door, I heard muffled shouting, a man’s furious voice echoing through the walls. I stepped inside cautiously and froze.
There she was—Keiko. Sitting in a corner, her expression flat, her presence eerily calm amidst the chaos. The shouting man turned to in an instant, and before I could register what was happening, his hands were on my collar, his face inches from mine.
"You bastard!" he roared, shaking violently. "How dare you ruin my daughter’s life!"
I couldn’t even breathe, let alone respond. My mind raced. What was he talking about?
The teacher intervened, pulling the man away from . His wife was crying, her sobs filling the room. And then, the words that shattered my world:
"Keiko is pregnant."
Pregnant.
I stared at her, my jaw slack, unable to comprehend. Keiko didn’t look at , didn’t say a word. Her silence scread louder than anything else in that room.
"You're the father," her mother choked out, tears streaming down her face. "You need to take responsibility!"
I felt the weight of their words crush . My legs nearly gave out. "This... this can’t be," I stamred, my voice barely audible. "It’s not... it can’t be mine."
Keiko’s father lunged at again, fury blazing in his eyes. "She told us you’re the only one! Are you calling her a liar?"
I glanced at Keiko, desperate for her to deny it, to say sothing, anything, but she sat there, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her face expressionless.
"I... I want proof," I managed to say, though my voice wavered. "A test. I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but... I need to be sure."
Her father’s face twisted with rage, but her mother interjected, her voice trembling. "Fine. We’ll get the test. But when it proves the truth, you will take responsibility."
As they left, Keiko stood and followed her parents out without so much as a glance in my direction. Her coldness pierced more than her father’s threats ever could.
---
A week later, the test results ca back.
My teacher called into the office again, this ti with my parents in tow. The result was undeniable—I was the father. I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt tight, my vision blurry.
"What have I done?" The thought looped endlessly in my head. I had ruined everything—my life, Keiko’s life, my parents’ feelings.
My father was livid. The mont we got ho, he didn’t hold back. He beat relentlessly, his fury exploding with every strike. "You disgrace this family!" he bellowed. "How could you be so careless? So stupid!"
My mother sobbed in the corner, clutching her chest as if the pain was too much to bear. I wanted to say sothing, to apologize, but the words were stuck in my throat.
The next day, my father and I visited Keiko’s house. He insisted on bringing gifts—an apology, he said, though I doubted it would an much. When we arrived, her parents greeted us with stern faces.
"I’m sorry for what my son has done," my father said, bowing deeply. "We will take responsibility, but I must ask... would you consider terminating the pregnancy? They’re too young to raise a child."
The room fell silent. Then Keiko spoke.
"No."
Her voice was firm, unwavering. It was the loudest I’d ever heard her speak.
"I’ll keep this baby," she continued, her gaze steady. "I don’t care if I have to raise it alone. This is my decision."
Her father backed her up imdiately, demanding that I step up as the father. My father, after a long silence, finally relented. "If that’s your choice," he said solemnly, "then we’ll respect it. My son will fulfill his responsibilities."
I wanted to protest, to say I wasn’t ready, but the words never ca.
---
From that day on, I was forced to visit Keiko every day after school. At first, I dreaded it. She barely spoke to , and the silence between us was suffocating. She carried on as if I wasn’t even there, and yet, I couldn’t bring myself to leave.
Watching her endure her pregnancy was harder than I anticipated. She often looked tired, sotis wincing in pain or clutching her stomach. Her discomfort stirred sothing in —a guilt so deep it was almost unbearable.
One evening, I finally worked up the courage to ask her, "Keiko... do you even like ? Even a little?"
She glanced at , her expression as unreadable as ever. "Not really," she said bluntly.
Her honesty stung, but I pushed on. "Then why? Why are you keeping the baby? Why are you doing this?"
Her expression softened, and for the first ti, I saw sothing warm in her eyes.
"It’s not the baby’s fault," she said quietly. "It didn’t ask to be brought into this world. Why should I punish it for our mistakes?"
Her words hit like a freight train. I had never thought about it that way, never even considered the life growing inside her as anything more than a problem to be solved.
"It’s my responsibility," she continued, her voice calm but resolute. "I made this choice, and I’ll see it through."
I couldn’t hold back anymore. Tears spilled from my eyes, unbidden and unstoppable. For the first ti, I felt the full weight of my actions, the gravity of what I had done.
Keiko didn’t say anything, didn’t comfort . She simply sat there, her presence steady and unyielding.
In that mont, I realized how selfish I had been, how much I had taken for granted. And for the first ti in my life, I vowed to take responsibility—not because I was forced to, but because I wanted to.
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