The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Chapter 191: Possibility Of Little Ella

Jason’s POV

"I believe she took the pill to prevent pregnancy, correct?" the doctor asked, his tone professional but firm.

I nodded, already feeling a sense of dread creeping in.

"Okay," he continued, glancing at his clipboard. "The injection I administered neutralized the drug in her system, meaning it will no longer be effective."

I blinked. "Wait... so you’re saying the pill won’t work anymore?"

He nodded. "That’s correct."

My stomach dropped. "So she can still get pregnant?"

Another nod. "Yes. However, we won’t be able to determine that for at least 72 hours."

Shit.

Ella is going to murder me.

I ran a hand down my face, trying to process. "Okay, then what now? Is there something else she can take to stop it?"

The doctor shook his head. "I wouldn’t recommend giving her another pill. Her body already reacted negatively to the first one, and another dose could cause severe complications."

Fantastic.

So I was left with exactly one option—praying to every god in existence that she doesn’t end up pregnant.

Shit.

I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a sharp breath as the doctor finished explaining.

"So, just to be clear—" I said slowly, my voice flat, "—there’s still a chance she could be pregnant?"

"Yes." The doctor nodded, completely unfazed.

I clenched my jaw.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Ella was going to murder me.

Like, not in a cute, oh-my-god-I’m-so-mad-at-you way. No. More like a "Jason, start planning your funeral" kind of way.

Great.

So now, I was left with exactly two options:

Pray. Run.

Because if Ella found out there was still a possibility she could get pregnant—

...Yeah. I was a dead man.

I walked back into the hospital room where Ella was resting, her breathing soft and steady. She looked peaceful—too peaceful—considering the storm that was bound to come when she woke up.

For a brief moment, I just stood there, watching her. The redness in her skin had faded, and she wasn’t itching anymore. That was a relief, at least. But my mind was still racing with what the doctor had told me.

72 hours.

That was the window before we’d know if the worst-case scenario had happened. And knowing Ella, she wouldn’t take that news lightly.

I ran a hand through my hair and let out a breath. Yeah, it was better to get her home before she woke up and started asking too many damn questions.

Moving carefully, I reached for her bag and jacket before leaning down to gently shake her awake. "Ella... wake up, sweetheart. Let’s get you home."

But Ella didn’t wake up.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. Of course, she didn’t. She must have been exhausted—not just from today but from everything that had happened in the past 24 hours. The stress, the panic, the allergy reaction—it all must have worn her out or maybe it was the drugs.

So, instead of trying again, I just scooped her up into my arms and carried her out of the hospital. This time, I was a lot calmer than when I’d barged in, yelling at every doctor and nurse in sight.

Now?

Now, those same nurses and doctors stood aside, watching us, their expressions soft with something that looked suspiciously like admiration. Some of the younger ones were outright swooning, whispering to each other with dreamy eyes.

Yeah, yeah, swoon all you want, I thought grimly. If Ella ended up pregnant, I’d be dead.

Hell, these people should be pitying me, not swooning. They knew. They knew what was coming for me if the worst happened.

And yet, as I settled her into the passenger seat, buckling her in like she was made of glass, I found myself pausing for just a second.

Looking at her peaceful, sleeping face.

And I realized something terrifying.

For the first time in my life... I wasn’t afraid of consequences.

Not the fines for running red lights.

Not the possibility of Ella waking up and going full-blown rage mode on me.

Not even the idea that she might actually be pregnant.

I was afraid of losing her.

As I drove us home, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near her just in case she stirred, a thought crept into my mind—one I never expected to have.

What if she was pregnant?

At first, the idea had been terrifying. Ella was going to murder me, no doubt about that. But now... now, as I glanced at her sleeping form, the idea didn’t seem so bad.

In fact...

It was kind of cute.

Ella, carrying my child. A little version of her—or me—running around, inheriting her fire and my charm. A kid with her eyes, her temper, her ridiculous ability to get under my skin and make me care more than I ever intended to.

My lips twitched. Damn. That was actually kind of amusing.

Of course, she could never know that I thought that. If she found out that a part of me was actually hoping for this, she’d do more than just throw cups and slippers at me. She’d end me.

But still...

A tiny part of my heart hoped.

As I pulled into the driveway, I shut off the engine and turned to look at Ella. She was still asleep, her breathing steady, lips slightly parted. Her face had calmed from the redness earlier, and she no longer looked like she was ready to claw her own skin off. Thank God.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck.

Now came the tricky part—getting her inside without waking her up.

I carefully unbuckled her seatbelt, trying not to jostle her too much, but the second I moved to pick her up, her eyes fluttered open.

"Mmm... Jason?" she mumbled sleepily, blinking at me like she was still half in a dream.

"Yeah, sweetheart. We’re home."

She stared at me for a second, then groaned and buried her face into my shoulder.

"Carry me," she mumbled.

I huffed out a soft chuckle. "Lazy."

She pinched my arm weakly. "I almost died. Shut up and carry me."

Rolling my eyes, I scooped her up in my arms, kicking the car door shut behind me. She wasn’t heavy, not to me, but I made a dramatic show of grunting like she weighed a ton.

"You need to lay off the chocolates," I teased.

"Drop me, and I’ll kill you," she muttered, eyes still closed.

"Scary." I smirked, carrying her up the steps and into the house. freewebnσvel.cѳm

Once inside, I laid her down on the couch instead of taking her straight to bed. I didn’t want her passing out again without eating something first. Her body had been through a lot today, and she needed food and water.

"Stay here," I said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "I’ll get you something to eat."

She hummed in response, curling into the couch, looking way too adorable for my sanity.

As I moved to the kitchen, my thoughts circled back to earlier—what the doctor had said.

72 hours.

That was how long it would take before we could know for sure. And until then, I had to keep my damn mouth shut about the tiny part of me that wouldn’t be mad if she actually was pregnant.

Because if I even hinted at it?

Ella would skin me alive.