Shotgun Wedding

Diana's POV

"She is carrying my grandchild. You two are getting married tomorrow. My decision is final."

Mr. Smith’s voice cracked like thunder across the room. My heart stopped.

"What?" Gordon and I blurted at the same time, disbelief hanging between us.

"Yes, you heard me," Mr. Smith said evenly, though his eyes were locked on his son, sharp with anger.

Gordon let out a humourless laugh. "Dad, I don’t even know her. You know me, there’s no way I’d move in with a girl like her."

My stomach twisted at his words. Was this really the same man who had taken my body a month ago, like his life depended on it?

"Diana," Mr. Smith turned to me, his tone gentler, "do you know my son?"

I froze under Gordon’s glare. His eyes warned me: Say yes and you’ll regret it.

And just like that, my mind slipped into an old nightmare.

I was back in high school, trapped in the suffocating stench of the girls’ restroom. Gordon’s friends had my head shoved into a toilet bowl, their laughter bouncing off the tiles. My lungs burned as I struggled.

"Hold her under until she drowns," Gordon’s voice commanded coldly, arms folded as if he were above it all.

"Diana?"

The sharp snap of fingers yanked me out of the memory. Mr. Smith leaned toward me, concern etched into his face. "Are you alright?"

I nodded quickly, forcing my trembling hands into my lap.

"Don’t let him scare you," Mr. Smith said firmly. "Now answer me, have you been with my son? And by that, I mean, have you two not slept together?"

Heat burned my cheeks. I lowered my gaze, hesitated, and then shook my head.

"See?" Gordon sneered immediately. "There’s no way I’d touch this disgusting thing."

His words sliced me open, and I dropped my head lower so neither of them could see the tears threatening to fall.

"Gordon!" Mr. Smith’s voice thundered. "Never, do you hear me? Never call another man’s child a disgusting thing."

Gordon’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

"Whether she admits it or not," Mr. Smith continued, "you two will marry. That’s final. Go get ready."

"Dad....."

"Get out of my office. Either you marry her, or I’ll have you thrown into jail for rape."

The word rape struck like a hammer. Gordon’s face drained of colour before he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Silence hung heavy until Mr. Smith turned back to me, his expression softening. "Ignore my son. He’s hot-headed, rude, but… he can be sweet when he chooses. He’ll make a good husband in time."

I wanted to laugh, but my throat was too tight.

"I know about the Room 208 incident," he added casually. "It’s my friend’s hotel, after all."

My heart stopped. He knew. He had always known.

"How is your mother?" he asked.

"She’s… fine. Just not as strong as before."

"She’ll recover," he assured me kindly. Then his face grew serious again. "In my family, it is forbidden for a man to impregnate a woman and abandon her. My son will do the needful. Tomorrow morning, my driver will pick you up at eight sharp and take you to the courthouse."

He smiled then, a warm, fatherly smile that almost made me believe him. "You’re a good girl, Diana. By the time this child is born, Gordon will warm up to you. I promise you, I’ll give you the wedding of your dreams."

"I'll let my driver drop you home."

I forced myself to smile back. "Thank you, Mr. Smith. But I’ll go home by myself. I need to explain everything to my mum. If I show up in an expensive car, she’ll panic."

"That’s fine." He opened his drawer, pulling out a bundle of cash. "Here. I need you and the baby to be safe. Call for a ride, don’t take the bus."

I took only a small portion. "This will be enough for the ride, thank you."

He pressed the rest into my hand. "Keep it. From now on, I’m your father-in-law."

My throat tightened with unspoken gratitude as I slipped out of his office.

The corridor felt like a tunnel closing in on me. I was nearly to the stairs when Gordon’s voice lashed out from the shadows.

"So, you went running your dirty mouth to my dad, huh?"

I spun, startled. "I didn’t! I didn’t even know I was pregnant. All I remember is passing out on my way to the bus stop."

"And I’m supposed to believe my dad just happened to find you?" His voice dripped with venom. "Somehow, he’s convinced I got you pregnant? How the hell do you get knocked up from one time?"

"I, I don’t know. You were my first."

His eyes narrowed, suspicious. "And you expect me to believe you didn’t sleep with anyone else after me?"

My body trembled, but my voice hardened. "If I were that kind of girl, I wouldn’t have been a virgin, would I?"

Gordon scoffed, leaning in close so only I could hear. "Don’t you dare show up tomorrow. If you do, you’ll have brought this misery on yourself." He shoved past me, his cologne choking the air as he disappeared down the stairs.

My legs carried me outside on autopilot. I hailed a cab straight home.

When I told my mother everything, the deal, the pregnancy, the marriage, her face crumpled.

"Oh, Diana." Her voice was soft, pained. "You shouldn’t have given your body away like that." She studied me with worried eyes. "So tell me, are you marrying him because you’re pregnant, or because he loves you?"

The truth clawed at my throat. Because I have no choice. Because survival is all that’s left.

But I couldn’t let her carry that burden.

"Mummy… he loves me," I lied, twisting my hands. "He just pretended it was about money. But he loves me, and I love him too."

Her face softened, relief overtaking worry. "If that’s the case, I won’t stand in your way. You have my blessing, Diana. I’ll even accompany you tomorrow."

Tears filled my eyes as I hugged her tightly. "Thank you, Mum."

The next morning, she woke me early.

"I wish I could’ve bought you something pretty," she said, holding up a dress she had stayed up all night sewing. "But everything’s happening so fast. I wanted you to have this."

It was simple, a white, off-shoulder dress with a small belt and a neat flare that fell to my knees, but to me, it was priceless.

"Mum," I whispered, throat thick, "it’s beautiful."

She styled my hair into a soft bun, kissed my forehead, and by 7:50, we were ready. A black four-wheel drive was already parked outside.

Mr. Smith stood at the courthouse steps when we arrived, his bodyguards looming like statues. "Good morning," he greeted warmly. "You must be Diana’s mum."

"This is my mum, Ms. Wilson," I said quickly.

"Mrs. Wilson, or?" he asked politely.

"Ms. Wilson," she replied, shaking his hand firmly.

"Son, come greet your mother-in-law," Mr. Smith called.

Gordon stepped out of the car in a suit, his face thunderous. But when he reached us, he forced a smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

"You look beautiful, my dear," Mr. Smith whispered to me, making me flush with embarrassment.

"Hello, Ms. Wilson," Gordon greeted stiffly.

After brief introductions, Mr. Smith clapped his hands. "Alright, let’s get these two married."

The courthouse felt sterile and cold, the walls too white, the silence too loud. My steps faltered as the ceremony began. The words—Do you take this woman… do you take this man…—floated past me like smoke. My hands shook as I signed my name beside Gordon’s on the marriage certificate.

It was done.

"Congratulations to you both!" Mr. Smith declared, hugging us in turn. My mother hugged me too, her smile tender and hopeful.

But I felt nothing but emptiness.

As we walked out, Mr. Smith’s phone buzzed. "I must get to the office. Gordon, take Diana and her mother to gather her belongings. From now on, they live with us."

"Oh, don’t worry about me," my mum interjected. "I run my business at the flat. Take Diana with you. I’ll visit whenever."

I wanted to protest, but my words stuck. She hugged me one last time, eyes bright with love, and waved as we drove off.

I never imagined it would be the last time I saw her alive.

Gordon rolled up the window, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "I told you not to show up. But you just couldn’t listen. If not for my dad holding a gun to my back, I’d never have married you."

My heart shrank.

"You wanted this so badly, didn’t you? Well, congratulations." His mouth twisted in a cruel smile. "You just signed yourself into hell. Don’t expect happiness in this marriage."

He slammed his foot on the accelerator. The car shot forward, my body jerking against the seatbelt. My heart raced wildly as the world blurred past.

He took turns too sharply, the tires screeching. Fear clawed at me as tears streamed down my face. I gripped the seat, screaming as he sped faster, as if trying to fling me from this world entirely.

And in that moment, I understood, this marriage wasn’t a promise.

It was a prison.

I just got myself a certificate for hell.