I'm a screenwriter for short films, and that pregnancy test result was just a prop from a scene we were shooting. Our production assistant messed up and accidentally put my name on it, so I kept the mistake as a memento from my first short film. I never expected Ryan to find it.

So, I tried to explain, "That pregnancy test isn't real..."

But Ryan's mom wasn't happy. "So what you're saying is that this isn't yours? That my son, Ryan, picked up a fake pregnancy test to fool you?"

I quickly responded, "No, it's mine..."

Ryan's mom shot back, "So you made a fake pregnancy test yourself?"

I shook my head vigorously, about to explain further, but my mom cut in, "Alright, I might've scared you before, but I'm not going to actually break your legs just because you're pregnant."

Well, that's it—there was no way to clear this up now.

My parents seemed to have made up their minds that I was definitely pregnant.

My mom smiled and said, "Mrs. Shaw, since they're getting married, how do you want to handle the wedding expenses, the traditional jewelry, and the reception?"

Ryan's mom smiled back, "Isn't that why we're here today? To talk about their wedding?

"If you ask me, we're not the kind of people who cling to old traditions. Aria and Ryan are both well-educated, so we should move past outdated customs like a dowry.

"Besides, gold prices are way too high right now. Let's wait for them to drop, and then we can buy the jewelry later.

"And as for the engagement ring, I think a fake one will do for now. Once Aria's further along in her pregnancy, her fingers will swell up anyway, and she won't be able to wear the ring. Plus, with a baby on the way, it's not practical to wear much jewelry. Ryan, on the other hand, can have a nice one. Men's rings have a simpler design, and they won't harm the baby, right?"

As Ryan's mom rambled on, my parents were struggling to keep their smiles in place.

But Ryan's mom seemed oblivious to their discomfort and continued, "We can hold the wedding here, but since we don't know the area well, we'll leave the planning to you. Our side doesn't have many guests, so just twenty tables should be enough."

That's when my mom finally dropped her smile. "We can handle the wedding planning, but who's paying for all of this?"

Ryan's mom immediately replied, "Well, since the wedding's happening here, it's only right that you cover the costs. And you'll need to arrange transportation and hotels for our relatives too. After all, this is a big day—everything needs to be top-notch so we don't embarrass ourselves in front of the family."

My mom let out a cold laugh. "Well, that's a first. I've never heard of the bride's family footing the bill for the wedding."

Ryan's mom caught the sarcasm in my mom's voice, and her face turned stern. "If your family doesn't want to pay, then there won't be a wedding. And when word gets out, it'll be your daughter who's left humiliated."

My mom's face turned pale with anger, but she didn't snap back. She just shot me a furious glare.

What could I do? I felt hurt, too.

Seeing Ryan sit there in silence, it was all too clear to me now.

All the love I'd given over the years—I might as well have been giving it to a wall.

Ryan's dad spoke up, "Actually, the wedding expenses aren't that much."

At this point, Ryan's dad paused, and my parents and I exchanged confused glances, unsure of his meaning.

Then he continued, "The real expense is the house."

My parents' faces darkened immediately.

Ryan's mom leaned back in her chair with a smug smile. "You'll need to cover the house. Ryan showed me Aria's place, and I think it's fine, but we'll need to add his name to the title. Otherwise, it wouldn't feel right for us to live there.

"And you'll need to provide a car as well, nothing too flashy—something in the range of $80,000 should be enough. It's better to keep things modest."

At this, my dad couldn't hold back any longer. "Are you suggesting that Ryan is going to move in with us?"

Ryan's dad reacted as if he'd been insulted. "Ryan is our only son. He can't move in with you."

My dad sneered, "You're offering no traditional gifts, and we have to handle the wedding as well as paying for the house. Now, you want us to buy a car, too. How is that not moving in with us?"

Ryan's mom looked at me with disdain, "Blame your indiscreet daughter. Now that she's pregnant, who else would marry her? If she doesn't offer something, why should my son accept her?"

I had already seen their true colors and was planning to break up with Ryan anyway. So the house, car, and wedding expenses were just empty words—they meant nothing to me.

But these comments were clearly personal attacks. How could I tolerate that?

I snapped, "You think I'm the one who's indiscreet? What about your son? He's just a washed-up loser I used to date.

"And even if I were pregnant out of wedlock, so what? It's a personal choice. Only people with outdated, narrow minds would make such a big deal out of it, and now you're trying to use it to leverage against my family?

"You want my family to pay for everything? Just look at him—he's barely worth my time, let alone any kind of settlement."

Ryan's parents were fuming red with anger. Ryan himself was stuttering, unable to form a coherent response.

I turned to Ryan's mom, lifted my chin with disdain, and said, "See? He can't even get his words out."

Ryan's mom finally lost her composure and started hurling insults at me.

But I'm a screenwriter—I can throw words right back. I matched her insult for insult, and in the end, I came out ahead.

Ryan, stunned by his mother's agitation, turned to me and said, "Aria Campbell, how can you be so vulgar?"

I huffed, "I adapt to the situation. If you think I'm being rude, I can be polite and insult you more eloquently."

Ryan's dad rolled up his sleeves, preparing to strike. "You bitch! How dare you insult my son and my wife! I'm going to show you what's what."

Before he could reach me, my dad intercepted him, "My daughter isn't for you to discipline."

I took the opportunity to hide behind my dad and said, "Ryan isn't my man, and your family isn't my in-laws. Today, I'm making it clear—I'm done with Ryan, and this wedding is off."

I grabbed my parents' hands and said, "Dad, Mom, let's go."

Ryan blocked my path, "Aria, apologize to my parents."

I spat at him. "Ryan, with your parents looking to drain my family dry, you have the nerve to ask for an apology? I'm going to pack your things up and leave them at the gate. You can come by later to pick them up yourself."

Ryan's face was serious as he said, "Aria, are you really going to be this uncompromising? You're your parents' only child, so those things will eventually be yours. We're just using them a bit earlier."

Hearing this, I was disgusted by how he could make such a self-serving justification sound so noble.

I sneered. "The things my parents have will be mine someday, but they will never be shared with you. Freeloader."

Ryan's eyes were red with anger.

Ryan's mom sneered, "Let them go. When her belly gets bigger, she'll come begging us."

Since I wasn't actually pregnant, I couldn't "get bigger".

But I didn't want to argue with them any further. Let them keep dreaming.

Once we were in the car, my mom finally lost her composure. "Aria, I feel so bad for you! I can't believe you're pregnant with a child from someone like that!"

I laughed and said, "Mom, I'm not pregnant."

Thinking I was just being stubborn, my mom said, "Aria, if you're feeling down, just let it out. Whatever you want to do with the baby, your dad and I will support you. Isn't that right?"

My dad agreed, "Yes, of course."

I sighed and said, "Mom, I'm telling the truth. That was just a prop for a shoot, and the stagehand messed up the name."

I showed her the chat logs with the stagehand to prove it. My mom finally believed me, and her worried expression cleared instantly. She huffed, "It's a good thing you're not pregnant. Otherwise, I'd have broken your legs."

Hearing our conversation, my dad chuckled, "Aria, that stagehand really is your lucky star. If it weren't for this mix-up, we might have fallen into their trap and ended up with a real mess."

My mom added, "Exactly. Especially with a child from someone like that. If you keep it, it could really take a toll on your health, and if you don't, we'd be taking a life. It's better to avoid the whole situation if possible."

I had to admit, my parents had a point. If Ryan's true colors hadn't shown, I might have been seriously taken advantage of.

My dad was right about one thing: Ryan had been good to me these past couple of years, at least in terms of emotional support.

Ryan and I were college classmates. We met during our senior year, and he began pursuing me aggressively.

At first, I didn't think much of him because he seemed quite ordinary. But everyone had their down moments. When I had an emergency appendectomy and my parents weren't around, Ryan took care of me during my recovery. In my vulnerable state, I saw him in a new light.

Over time, Ryan did show me he cared, doing things like braving the cold to get me barbecue late at night or waiting in line for half an hour just to get me a specific coffee. At the time, I mistook these gestures for love.

Little did I know, I had become someone's prey. I was still lost in thoughts when we arrived at my place.

My parents bought it for me—a three-bedroom, two-living-room home—which was originally intended as part of my marriage arrangement. If Ryan's family hadn't shown their true colors so early, he might have ended up with half of it.

I looked at the two large boxes of Ryan's things and felt increasingly frustrated. I paid for a significant portion of these items.

Ryan always claimed his family was struggling, so I had been covering his living expenses for the past two years. The more I thought about it, the more I felt cheated. I decided to take out everything I had purchased and leave it all behind. Even if I couldn't use it, I wasn't about to let Ryan benefit from it.

I took photos of the packed items and left them with the doorman before heading back to my parent's place.

That night, Ryan called. "Aria, not only did you take my things, but you also changed the passcode. Give it to me now, or where will my family sleep tonight?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Ryan, calling you and your family 'dim-witted' is an understatement. You clearly don't understand what a breakup means. I changed the passcode to keep you out. How dare you ask for it back? You're both greedy and clueless."

Ryan said furiously, "Aria, just wait…"

I hung up and blocked him before he could finish. I thought Ryan wouldn't make much of a fuss, but I underestimated his audacity. He even called the police.

When the police arrived and said someone reported me for taking his belongings, I was stunned. My parents wanted to accompany me to the station, but I declined. They had already been through so much that day, and I didn't want them to worry more.

I told my parents, "Don't worry. They won't do anything at the station."

But it turned out, even at the police station, they were still acting out of line.