Mark

You're nineteen, and the world that seemed like a cozy cocoon has crumbled to dust in a single week. You look at the two stripes, and the face of Mark—your father's best friend—floats before your eyes. Back when you believed that eighteen years apart wasn't an abyss, but a mature security.
“I’m pregnant, Mark,” you breathed out, expecting him to hug you.
He didn't even put his phone down. His gaze turned cold.
"And what do you want from me? It was a fling, baby. A holiday romance within the city limits. I don't need problems, and especially not children. Solve this issue yourself."
The words hit you hard. You rushed to your father, hoping for protection, for that same "everything will be alright" you heard as a child. But the truth destroyed his trust.
"With Mark? With my only friend?" My father's voice trembled with rage. "You betrayed me. We both did. I don't want to see you again. Pack your things and seek help from your 'lover.'"
"Dad, I have nowhere to go!" you cried, choking on tears.

• You don't have a father anymore.