The Kuos shot them doubtful frowns.

A beat passed where they stared each other down.

Hongbo broke the silence. “I told you none of this was my fault. I did everything you asked.”

“Be quiet!” his father reprimanded.

Hongbo ignored him. “Maybe we should call this off. Since, you know, she probably isn’t as pure as we thought.”

Mrs. Kuo sniffed disdainfully. “That’s a great point.”

Andrew looked ready to tear this place down. He kept looking at me, waiting for a signal, but I was too angry, too overwhelmed, and still processing from ten steps ago, because how could my parents have known and still pressured me?

“Jing-Jing’s pure, I promise. The purest!” my mother piped up. Of course.

Mr. Kuo coughed once, on purpose. “I’m uncomfortable. We should call this off.”

And my mother panicked. “Jing-Jing accepts your proposal, Hongbo!” she declared, yelling it to everyone in the vicinity. “We came here tonight just to share this good news with you all!”

The guests who were hovering in the background pretending not to eavesdrop gave up the charade and broke into applause. People started yelling congratulations, a champagne bottle popped nearby, and a small group started approaching us to celebrate.

No! my mind screamed. No! No! No!

Everything was happening too fast. I couldn’t think.

Hongbo was coming over to me. The Kuos, wary just moments ago, were suddenly accepting handshakes and exclaiming how wonderful it was that Hongbo would be settling down with a girl so innocent she didn’t realize the male friend she’d brought to the party was actually interested in her. Someone pulled Andrew away from me and too many hands were clapping me on the back, touching my arm, invading my space.

My parents didn’t see me as human. Didn’t care how I felt, what I wanted, how much I was suffering to try to make them happy.

If I allowed this engagement to happen, that would be it. I’d be letting them win and consigning myself to a future where I’d slowly fade into nothing. It was already happening. And my parents didn’t even notice. I could feel my spirit dying, slowly choking on the lies, the pain, the sacrifices.

I felt comforting fingers encircle my wrist briefly before they were pulled away again.

For the record, I like the version of you from the application, the one who stands up to gross Lamborghini-loving douchebags, not the one who feels like she has to be nice and smile for the world just because they said so.

Inside, a momentary burst of strength shouted at me to snap out of it. To fucking fix it before it was too late.

So I did.

“I’m pregnant,” I announced, shattering my virginal reputation just as someone in the room dropped and shattered a glass—probably a crystal Waterford champagne flute or whatever the fanciest one was.