"Mum, Dad," I said, entering the kitchen, interrupting their argument and making them both look towards me with fake smiles plastered to their faces.

"Samara," my father said, stepping away from her. He sat down at the table and gestured for me to follow his example.

I sat across the table from him, waiting for him to say something. But he just sat there, watching me, his eyes flicking to my ring several times during the few minutes it took Mum to serve our food and join us.

"Happy birthday, honey. We didn't know what to get you," Mum started while Dad poured out the wine, "so your father put some money on your account and here..." she said, passing me a small, gift-wrapped jewellery box that had been lying on the table next to her plate, "I found this in that little shop selling antiques, the one close to Luigi's restaurant. I thought you might like it, seeing your new style."

I untied the tiny bow adorning the box, unwrapped it, and looked inside curiously. Even though I didn't really like jewels, I liked this one at first sight. It was an old-fashioned, oval silver locket, inset with tiny, colourful fragments of some semi-precious stones, complete with a long silver chain.

"It's Victorian. It opens, so you can put a couple of pictures inside," Mum explained.

"Thank you both," I said, closing the box again and pushing it aside so we could start eating.

I did not enjoy our quiet meal at all. My stomach was in knots. I was only waiting for the best occasion to start with my confession, impatient to tell them what I had to say, to have it finally over, but dreading it, and trying to postpone, at the same time.

But I couldn't avoid talking about it any longer once Dad, his eyes glued to my ring again, said, "So, I see that your boyfriend finally decided to take the next step."

They had both finished eating and sat quietly, avoiding to look at each other, waiting for me to finish too, so Mum could bring the cake. But I just couldn't eat anymore. I put my fork down next to my hardly touched dinner and pushed the plate away.

"His name is William. They've been dating for two years, for goodness' sake; you should remember at least that by now," Mum said, looking at Dad contemptuously while pouring herself another glass of wine. She turned the bottle towards me, ready to refill my glass, then paused, puzzled by finding it untouched.

"Lara, I was not talking to you," Dad said, looking at her coldly.

"It's fine," I interrupted them. "It doesn't matter. We broke up, anyway."

Mum scowled at me, and Dad raised his eyebrows in a look of surprise that did not really reach his eyes. He looked... bored, maybe slightly irritated by what I had said, and expecting an explanation, which he was sure I owed him.

But this is my life! Why should I explain anything to him? What should I tell them, where should I start? I thought, my anger rising momentarily, then morphing quickly into panic, while Mum collected and carried away our used plates.

"I have some news," I mumbled, breathless with anxiety once Mum returned with the cake and sat down again.

Dad looked at me enquiringly, willing me to speak up and get on with it, while I groped for the best words to explain my situation.

"Come on, Samara, so this... William of yours," he looked pointedly at Mum, then shot a quick glance at his watch before his piercing gaze found its way back to me, "he proposed, right? Congratulations! Have you fixed the date of the wedding already?"

"That's great news, honey," Mum joined in, beaming, stroking my arm encouragingly.

"No. Wait. That's not what I was going to tell you. I'm pregnant," I blurted out. They, with their great expectations concerning me and William, were confusing me.

I did not dare to look at Dad as I said that, but from the corner of my eye, I saw Mum's smile freezing momentarily before she collected herself again.

"That's... all right, I guess, surely he will marry you before the child is born," she said, looking from me to Dad.

I closed my eyes for a few moments and took a deep breath.

"The child is not William's, and I'm not getting married," I announced, plucking up my courage and looking directly into Dad's grey eyes, so similar to my own, through the lenses of his narrow, frameless glasses.

Maybe I should have chosen some more delicate words, I thought, watching Dad's irises turn into two pieces of ice while he ran his right hand through his thick, unruly chestnut hair. The way I had said it, it couldn't sound good to them. But it's the truth! I argued with myself. It was as much of the truth as I was willing to share with my parents.

Dad sighed deeply and looked to the ceiling, summoning patience.

"So help me understand," he said after a while, his voice forced into apparent calm, "what are you planning to do?"

Straightening up, he leaned over the table, looming over me. With his elbows resting on the table top, he looked too tall, making me feel small and vulnerable, as he spoke over his steepled fingers. "Because I'm telling you, Samara, you won't become a single mother. Not under this roof."

The cold rage I saw flicker in his eyes, instead of making me feel even more intimidated, gave me the most needed strength to fight him.

"Fine," I said, trying to look as cold and hard as him. "I thought so. And here's my second piece of news. I'm moving out."

I placed my hands against the table and pushed my chair away, letting its legs scrape the floor loudly. Then I stood up and walked away from them immediately. When I reached the door, I turned back to wave goodbye to Mum, just in time to see her throwing her napkin on her unused dessert plate.

As none of them tried to stop me, I made my way towards the front door. With the last glare at William's flowers, I donned my coat, threw my bag over my shoulder, and picked up my box. Taking the house keys out of my pocket and throwing them on the table next to the vase, I walked outside and let the door slam shut behind me.

I paused on the front steps for a few moments, realising that I was breathing freely for the first time since I found out that I was pregnant. This was my life, my future. No. Mine and Vlad's, and our child's, I corrected myself. If my parents did not like it, they did not necessarily have to be involved in it.

Walking down the road, feeling strong, free, and happy, I texted Lia, letting her know that I was on my way.

I couldn't resist walking around the pond to say goodbye to Luigi. He and Veronica deserved to know what was happening. Luckily, the little restaurant was so busy that my friend had no time to flood me with all the questions I saw flashing in his wide, surprised eyes as soon as he saw me coming in, laden with all the things I was carrying.

"I'm moving out," I told him, raising my voice over the noise made by the many customers. "I'm pregnant," I added, realising that since I had said that out loud to other people but Lia, it was no longer a secret and I did not mind repeating it, "and my parents are not happy about it. But I won't be far, just in Hammersmith, at Lia's."

He nodded, looking in my eyes for a while, then wrapping his free arm over my shoulders. Drawing me closer for a hug, he made the wine glasses he was holding on a small tray in his other hand, wobble, and clinck dangerously.

"Will... the father of your child, be around to help you?" he asked when he let go of me.

I shook my head, matching his look bravely. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep, audible breath, as if I just confirmed something he had been thinking but didn't want to admit to himself that it was true.

"So he was right," Luigi murmured to himself, his voice so low that I read the words off his lips rather than heard them.

What is he talking about? I inclined my head in a mute question, but he only shook his head, collecting himself.

"I'm sure you are doing the right thing," he said. "Should you ever need anything, remember that we are here for you. And come over whenever you want, there will always be a table for you and your friends."

"Thanks, Luigi," I said, retreating towards the door before he would make me feel emotional. "I'll see you soon."

I walked into the freezing night without looking back as the next customer entering, held the door open for me, and rushed along the pond's shore towards the bus I could see approaching down the high road.

Lia was waiting for me at the station, as she had promised. She started questioning me about what had passed between me and my parents while we walked towards the flat, strugling against the tidal wave of bodies rushing towards the tube station, and trying to resist the other one, spilling out of it.

We could only talk properly once we reached the square. The play started a good while ago, and the surroundings of the theatre were calm and quiet. We slowed down, and I told her everything, about my parents and even about Luigi and his strange remark. I couldn't get it out of my mind, and it seemed to puzzle Lia, too.

As we reached the house where the flat was, we heard Anne calling us, then saw her running up the road, hand in hand with Mark.

"Hi girls," they greeted us in unison, then burst out in synchronized laughter.

I looked at Lia, raising an eyebrow in enquiry. They were... too cheerful.

"We're coming up for a while before we'll go clubbing. You two must come with us, I invite you!" Anne announced, taking a half finished bottle of wine from Mark and taking a sip. "Want some?" she offered.

When I refused politely, she and Mark preceded us, running and giggling up the stairs, and settled on the living room sofa even before I took my shoes off.

"I guess I'll just hide in my room," I whispered to Lia. "I'm tired. Can I only take a shower and go to bed, and do all the unpacking tomorrow?" I asked as she helped me carry the box to my bedroom.

"You must do whatever you feel like, Samara. This is your home now. But how are you feeling? Don't you need anything?"

"I'm fine." I smiled at her, sitting on my already made bed. "I'm just... exhausted."

"You must be. You've had quite a stressful week. You must rest more."

"Thanks for everything, Lia," I said, my voice tearful, feeling suddenly overcome by my life. Everything was so complicated. "If I didn't have you..."

"Hush," she said simply, rushing over to me. She embraced me tightly, then walked back to the door before I could start with the tears. "Everything will be fine. I'll see you tomorrow. Good night," She said, closing the door behind her.

Laying down on the bed, I covered my eyes with the palms of my hands. You are not going to cry, I told myself. My moods were swinging from one extreme to another, and, apparently, I could do nothing about it. Lia was right, I needed to rest more.

I took a few minutes to calm down before approaching my boxes lined neatly along the wall opposite the bed and selecting all the things I needed for the shower. Then I tiptoed towards the bathroom silently, not wanting to be spotted by anyone.

I was not in the mood to party at the moment.