{"id":4895,"date":"2026-02-03T02:33:11","date_gmt":"2026-02-03T02:33:11","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/stories.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=4895"},"modified":"2026-02-03T02:33:11","modified_gmt":"2026-02-03T02:33:11","slug":"i-got-her-pregnant-but-i-didnt-want-to-marry-her-she-was-not-in-my-class-and-i-felt-she-got-pregnant-just-to-cage-me-how-sure-was-i-that-the-child-even-belonged-to-me","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/stories.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=4895","title":{"rendered":"I got her pregnant, but I didn\u2019t want to marry her. She was not in my class, and I felt she got pregnant just to cage me. How sure was I that the child even belonged to me?"},"content":{"rendered":"

I didn\u2019t think of myself as a bad guy.
\nJust\u2026 practical.<\/p>\n

My name is Nathan Cole. Twenty-eight. Finance job downtown. Friends who wore watches that cost more than my first car. Parents who believed you married \u201cwithin your lane,\u201d because love was nice, but reputation was forever.<\/p>\n

Alyssa Rivera wasn\u2019t in my lane.<\/p>\n

She worked at a small event venue near my building\u2014coordinating weddings, cleaning up after speeches, smiling at couples who could afford full bars and flower arches. We met when my firm hosted a client mixer there. She kept the room running while the rest of us pretended we were the important ones.<\/p>\n

She was warm, sharp, funny in a way that didn\u2019t need approval.<\/p>\n

We hooked up once after a staff afterparty. Then again. Then it became a secret I told myself wasn\u2019t real.<\/p>\n

I never promised her anything. That\u2019s what I told myself. I never said \u201cgirlfriend.\u201d I never said \u201cfuture.\u201d I didn\u2019t even introduce her to my friends, because I liked the way she existed only in the corners of my life, away from judgment.<\/p>\n

Then she showed up outside my office one afternoon, hands shaking slightly, eyes red like she\u2019d argued with herself for hours before coming.<\/p>\n

\u201cNathan,\u201d she said quietly, \u201cI\u2019m pregnant.\u201d<\/p>\n

The street noise blurred. People kept walking, laughing, scrolling their phones, while my chest tightened like someone had cinched a belt around it.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow?\u201d I asked, instantly regretting the word.<\/p>\n

Alyssa flinched. \u201cWe didn\u2019t use protection that night. You said\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know what I said,\u201d I snapped, then forced my voice down. \u201cAre you sure?\u201d<\/p>\n

She opened her bag and pulled out a folded paper from the clinic. Positive test. Estimated gestational age. A due date.<\/p>\n

I stared at the date and did math in my head so fast it felt like panic disguised as logic.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d I said. \u201cWe\u2019ll\u2026 talk.\u201d<\/p>\n

Alyssa\u2019s face hardened slightly. \u201cI\u2019m not asking you to marry me.\u201d<\/p>\n

That should\u2019ve relieved me. It didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

Because my mother, Elaine, had already started asking why I wasn\u2019t dating \u201cseriously.\u201d My father, Robert, had begun making jokes about \u201csettling down\u201d like it was a business merger.<\/p>\n

And my friends\u2014my god, my friends\u2014would laugh her out of the room if they knew.<\/p>\n

In the days after Alyssa told me, I started hearing a sentence in my head that wasn\u2019t mine at first\u2014until I realized it came from my father.<\/p>\n

Some women get pregnant to cage men like you.<\/p>\n

I watched Alyssa differently after that. I hated myself for it, but I did. Every time she texted, I wondered what she wanted. Every time she mentioned an appointment, I wondered if she was trying to trap me into showing up like a husband.<\/p>\n

Then one night, after my parents cornered me at dinner with questions and expectations, I went home and drank alone, staring at Alyssa\u2019s ultrasound photo on my counter like it was an invoice.<\/p>\n

And the thought finally turned into words.<\/p>\n

How sure was I it was even mine?<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t ask her directly. I didn\u2019t want to look like the villain. So I called my friend Miles, the kind of guy who always had a cynical opinion ready.<\/p>\n

Miles laughed. \u201cBro. You\u2019re telling me you raw-dogged a girl you barely claim, and now you\u2019re shocked she\u2019s pregnant?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not shocked,\u201d I snapped. \u201cI\u2019m\u2026 cautious.\u201d<\/p>\n

Miles lowered his voice like we were discussing a stock tip. \u201cGet a paternity test. Don\u2019t sign anything. Don\u2019t get trapped.\u201d<\/p>\n

The word trapped hooked into my spine.<\/p>\n

Two days later, I met Alyssa at a coffee shop and tried to sound calm.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want to do things right,\u201d I said. \u201cBut I need certainty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Alyssa stared at me for a long time, eyes glossy but steady.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou want a paternity test,\u201d she said flatly.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t deny it. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her mouth tightened. \u201cOkay,\u201d she said, voice dangerously quiet. \u201cThen I need something from you too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

Alyssa slid her phone across the table. On the screen was a message thread\u2014screenshots\u2014between a number I recognized immediately.<\/p>\n

My mother\u2019s.<\/p>\n

And my mother had written: \u201cIf you keep this baby, you\u2019ll ruin his life. Name your price.\u201d
\nPart 2 \u2014 My Mother\u2019s Offer, My Father\u2019s Silence<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t breathe for a second.<\/p>\n

My mother didn\u2019t have Alyssa\u2019s number\u2014at least, she wasn\u2019t supposed to. The only way she could\u2019ve contacted her was if someone gave it to her.<\/p>\n

Me.<\/p>\n

Or someone who had access to my phone.<\/p>\n

Alyssa\u2019s voice stayed calm, but her hands trembled slightly around her coffee cup. \u201cShe called me,\u201d Alyssa said. \u201cThen she texted. Then she tried again.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at the screenshots like they might rearrange into something innocent. They didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

Elaine had offered money. Cash. Quietly. The kind of money you offer when you believe consequences can be bought and buried.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe doesn\u2019t even know me,\u201d Alyssa said. \u201cShe never asked if I was okay. She never asked if I needed help. She asked what I wanted to disappear.\u201d<\/p>\n

My throat went dry. \u201cI didn\u2019t know she did that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Alyssa watched me carefully. \u201cDidn\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

The question hit harder than any insult. Because the ugly truth was: part of me wasn\u2019t surprised. I\u2019d grown up watching Elaine smooth problems away. A bad review at a restaurant? She called the manager. A rumor in the neighborhood? She hosted a charity brunch. Everything had a price and a presentation.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d I said. It sounded too small.<\/p>\n

Alyssa leaned back. \u201cYou want certainty? Fine. You can have it. But understand something: I didn\u2019t get pregnant to cage you. I got pregnant because we made a choice together.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe didn\u2019t choose\u2014\u201d I started, then stopped. Because yes, we did. We chose recklessness. We chose denial. We chose pleasure over planning.<\/p>\n

Alyssa\u2019s eyes sharpened. \u201cYour mother thinks I\u2019m beneath you. Is that what you think too?\u201d<\/p>\n

I should\u2019ve answered immediately. I should\u2019ve said no.<\/p>\n

I hesitated.<\/p>\n

And that hesitation was an answer all on its own.<\/p>\n

Alyssa stood up. \u201cI\u2019ll do the test,\u201d she said. \u201cBut not for your friends. Not for your mother. For the child. So no one can ever question their worth.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then she paused, voice dropping. \u201cAnd for me, so I know exactly what kind of man you are.\u201d<\/p>\n

When she left, I sat there staring at my reflection in the coffee shop window, hating how much I cared about what \u201ckind of man\u201d I looked like, and how little I\u2019d cared about what she felt.<\/p>\n

That night, I confronted my mother.<\/p>\n

Elaine didn\u2019t deny it. She didn\u2019t even look ashamed. She looked irritated\u2014like I\u2019d questioned her strategy.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was protecting you,\u201d she said. \u201cThat girl is not your future.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s carrying my baby,\u201d I snapped.<\/p>\n

Elaine\u2019s face didn\u2019t change. \u201cAllegedly.\u201d<\/p>\n

My skin went cold. \u201cYou don\u2019t know that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elaine folded her arms. \u201cNeither do you. Which is why you should stop acting sentimental.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then my father walked in\u2014Robert\u2014silent, composed. I expected him to tell her she\u2019d gone too far.<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

He poured a drink and said, \u201cWe need to handle this smartly.\u201d<\/p>\n

Smartly. Like the baby was a lawsuit.<\/p>\n

I left their house shaking with anger I couldn\u2019t direct anywhere cleanly, because the truth was messy: I\u2019d absorbed their worldview, even if I hated it.<\/p>\n

Alyssa agreed to a prenatal paternity test. It wasn\u2019t cheap. I paid for it without blinking, because money was the only language my family respected, and suddenly I needed this resolved more than I needed sleep.<\/p>\n

The clinic was sterile and quiet. Alyssa sat on the exam table, jaw clenched, while the nurse explained the process.<\/p>\n

I tried to speak to Alyssa after, but she didn\u2019t let me ease into it.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf it\u2019s yours,\u201d she said, \u201cyou\u2019ll be a father. That doesn\u2019t mean you get to control me. It doesn\u2019t mean your family gets to buy me. It means you show up like an adult.\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded, because arguing would\u2019ve made it worse\u2014and because part of me admired her for not shrinking.<\/p>\n

Two days later, my friend Miles texted me: Heard from Jenna that your mom is offering Alyssa money to \u201ctake care of it.\u201d Dude, what\u2019s happening?<\/p>\n

My stomach dropped. I hadn\u2019t told Miles about the messages. I hadn\u2019t told anyone.<\/p>\n

Which meant my mother had.<\/p>\n

Elaine wasn\u2019t just trying to erase Alyssa. She was trying to shape the story around me.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s when I realized I wasn\u2019t standing at a crossroads between marrying Alyssa or not.<\/p>\n

I was standing at a crossroads between being my parents\u2019 son\u2026 and being someone else.<\/p>\n

And I still didn\u2019t know the answer.
\nPart 3 \u2014 Proof Doesn\u2019t Fix What You Broke<\/p>\n

The paternity results were supposed to take a week.<\/p>\n

They came in four days.<\/p>\n

Alyssa called me from her car, voice tight. \u201cThey emailed it,\u201d she said. \u201cDo you want to see it together?\u201d<\/p>\n

I should\u2019ve gone to her. I should\u2019ve held her hand. I should\u2019ve acted like the man I\u2019d been pretending to be.<\/p>\n

Instead I said, \u201cSend it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence.<\/p>\n

Then Alyssa exhaled, like she\u2019d expected that answer. \u201cOkay,\u201d she said quietly. \u201cHere.\u201d<\/p>\n

The PDF arrived. I opened it with my heart pounding like I was about to see my own sentence.<\/p>\n

Probability of paternity: 99.99%.<\/p>\n

It was mine.<\/p>\n

Relief hit first\u2014hot and immediate\u2014followed by something uglier: dread. Because certainty didn\u2019t make me brave. It just removed my excuses.<\/p>\n

I drove to Alyssa\u2019s apartment with the result printed in my hand like a confession. She opened the door and didn\u2019t smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s mine,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n

Alyssa nodded once. No celebration. No \u201cI told you so.\u201d Just a quiet acceptance that felt heavier than a fight.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd now?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

I looked around her small living room\u2014the thrift-store couch, the stack of bills on the counter, the baby book already open on the table. She\u2019d been preparing alone while I\u2019d been calculating risk.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want to be involved,\u201d I said quickly. \u201cI want to do this right.\u201d<\/p>\n

Alyssa\u2019s eyes narrowed slightly. \u201cFor the baby?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd for me?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

I hesitated again, because honesty is harder when it costs you comfort.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2026 care about you,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Alyssa laughed softly, but it wasn\u2019t happy. \u201cYou care about the idea of not being the bad guy,\u201d she said. \u201cYou care about what people will say.\u201d<\/p>\n

That was when she handed me a folder.<\/p>\n

Inside were screenshots. Not just my mother\u2019s messages. Emails from an address linked to my father\u2019s assistant. A voicemail transcript from someone offering Alyssa \u201csupport\u201d if she signed documents. A draft agreement that mentioned confidentiality and \u201cnon-disparagement.\u201d<\/p>\n

My parents had been building a cage around her\u2014while I was still deciding whether she\u2019d built one around me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t ask them to do this,\u201d I said, voice cracking.<\/p>\n

Alyssa\u2019s gaze didn\u2019t soften. \u201cBut you benefited from it,\u201d she said. \u201cYou let them try.\u201d<\/p>\n

I wanted to deny it. I couldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

That weekend, my parents hosted a dinner. They insisted I come. \u201cWe need to discuss your plan,\u201d my father said, like the baby was a quarterly report.<\/p>\n

Alyssa didn\u2019t go. She refused.<\/p>\n

So I walked into my childhood dining room alone, and my mother smiled like she\u2019d won.<\/p>\n

Elaine\u2019s first sentence wasn\u2019t \u201cHow is Alyssa?\u201d It wasn\u2019t \u201cIs the baby okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

It was: \u201cWell? Is it yours?\u201d<\/p>\n

My jaw tightened. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elaine\u2019s smile thinned. \u201cThen we proceed carefully.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe?\u201d I repeated.<\/p>\n

My father placed a folder on the table. \u201cWe have options,\u201d he said. \u201cSupport, of course. But you need protection. A custody arrangement. A financial cap. Terms.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at the folder. \u201cYou\u2019re planning custody before the baby\u2019s even born.\u201d<\/p>\n

Robert\u2019s tone stayed smooth. \u201cThat\u2019s how adults handle risk.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elaine leaned in. \u201cNathan, you can still have a future. She can be compensated. Quietly. People do it all the time.\u201d<\/p>\n

The room went cold inside me. Not because they were monstrous in the movie-villain way. Because they sounded normal. Like this was common sense. Like Alyssa was a problem to manage.<\/p>\n

Something snapped.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Elaine blinked. \u201cExcuse me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI said no,\u201d I repeated, louder. \u201cYou\u2019re not buying her. You\u2019re not writing terms. You\u2019re not calling her \u2018risk.\u2019 She\u2019s the mother of my child.\u201d<\/p>\n

My father\u2019s eyes hardened. \u201cCareful.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stood up. My hands trembled, but my voice didn\u2019t. \u201cYou crossed a line when you contacted her without me. You crossed it again when you tried to pay her off. You\u2019re done.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elaine\u2019s face shifted\u2014anger, then wounded pride. \u201cAfter everything we\u2019ve done for you\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s the problem,\u201d I said. \u201cYou think you own me.\u201d<\/p>\n

I walked out before my legs could change their mind.<\/p>\n

In the parking lot, my phone rang. Alyssa\u2019s name.<\/p>\n

I answered, breathless. \u201cI told them to stop.\u201d<\/p>\n

Alyssa was quiet for a moment. Then she said, softly, \u201cThey won\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

She was right.<\/p>\n

Because two days later, Alyssa called me crying for the first time since all of this began.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy manager got a call,\u201d she whispered. \u201cSomeone said I was unstable. Someone said I was harassing a \u2018prominent businessman.\u2019 They hinted I was trying to trap you.\u201d<\/p>\n

My blood turned to ice.<\/p>\n

My parents hadn\u2019t just tried to buy her.<\/p>\n

They were trying to destroy her.<\/p>\n

Part 4 \u2014 The Lie They Wanted the World to Believe<\/p>\n

When Alyssa told me about the call to her workplace, I felt something I\u2019d never fully felt before.<\/p>\n

Not fear of losing my reputation.<\/p>\n

Fear of being complicit in cruelty.<\/p>\n

I drove to the venue where she worked and found her sitting in her car in the staff lot, forehead pressed to the steering wheel like she was trying to hold herself together by force.<\/p>\n

I opened the passenger door and slid in quietly. \u201cI\u2019m here,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Alyssa didn\u2019t look at me. \u201cThey\u2019re going to make me the villain,\u201d she whispered. \u201cThey\u2019re going to take my job. They\u2019re going to say I did this to you on purpose.\u201d<\/p>\n

I swallowed hard. \u201cI won\u2019t let them.\u201d<\/p>\n

Alyssa finally turned her face toward me\u2014eyes red, jaw tight. \u201cYou already did,\u201d she said. \u201cFor weeks. Every time you hesitated, you gave them room.\u201d<\/p>\n

She wasn\u2019t wrong. And the shame of that truth was heavier than any accusation about \u201cclass.\u201d<\/p>\n

I called an attorney the next morning, not my family\u2019s attorney. A woman named Dana Hughes, who spoke in clean sentences and didn\u2019t flinch when I told her my mother had tried to pay off the mother of my child.<\/p>\n

\u201cDocument everything,\u201d Dana said. \u201cAnd stop communicating with your parents without counsel. If they\u2019re contacting her employer, we may have grounds for harassment and defamation.\u201d<\/p>\n

That afternoon, Dana helped us draft a formal cease-and-desist. It went to my parents, my father\u2019s assistant, and the private investigator Dana suspected they\u2019d hired.<\/p>\n

Then came the part I didn\u2019t want, but Alyssa deserved: I told the truth where it mattered.<\/p>\n

I went to Alyssa\u2019s manager myself.<\/p>\n

Alyssa sat beside me, hands clasped in her lap.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Nathan Cole,\u201d I said, voice steady. \u201cAlyssa is pregnant with my child. My family has been contacting people around her to pressure her. Any claims about her being unstable or manipulative are false. I have documentation. If this has affected her employment, my attorney will address it.\u201d<\/p>\n

The manager\u2019s expression shifted from guarded to stunned. \u201cYour family did that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said. \u201cAnd I\u2019m stopping it.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was the first time I\u2019d used my name as a shield instead of a weapon.<\/p>\n

My mother called me that night, furious. \u201cHow dare you embarrass us,\u201d she hissed.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow dare you threaten her livelihood,\u201d I shot back.<\/p>\n

Elaine\u2019s voice turned cold. \u201cShe\u2019s turning you against us.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cYou did that yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then my father got on the line. His tone was measured, almost disappointed. \u201cNathan, you\u2019re being emotional.\u201d<\/p>\n

I laughed once, bitter. \u201cThat\u2019s funny,\u201d I said. \u201cBecause you taught me emotions were weakness. And now I see you use that word to dismiss anyone you can\u2019t control.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a pause, then Robert said something that made everything clear.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you choose her,\u201d he said, \u201cyou\u2019re not a Cole anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n

The threat was supposed to break me.<\/p>\n

Instead it freed me.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d I said. \u201cThen I\u2019m not.\u201d<\/p>\n

I hung up and blocked them both.<\/p>\n

The fallout was immediate. My mother reached out to relatives. My father\u2019s friends stopped inviting me to things. People in my circle started asking questions with that polite tone that means gossip has already solidified into \u201ctruth.\u201d<\/p>\n

Alyssa watched it happen from a distance, as if she\u2019d seen this kind of social violence before and knew it came with loving someone who was born into a certain world.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want you to resent me,\u201d she said one night, voice quiet.<\/p>\n

I looked at her. \u201cI resent that I ever doubted you,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Alyssa didn\u2019t soften. Not fully. Trust doesn\u2019t snap back into place like a rubber band. It rebuilds slowly, in boring moments, in consistent actions.<\/p>\n

So I did the work. I went to prenatal appointments. I read the parenting books. I sat through therapy and said out loud that I was terrified of becoming my father.<\/p>\n

Dana helped us draft a custody and support plan before the birth\u2014not as a threat, but as stability. Alyssa wanted clarity. I wanted accountability. We signed it with mutual counsel, no tricks, no traps.<\/p>\n

When the baby came\u2014a boy, screaming and furious at the world\u2014I held him and felt the last of my old arrogance burn away.<\/p>\n

Because the truth was never about whether the child was mine.<\/p>\n

The child had always been the easiest part.<\/p>\n

The harder part was facing who I\u2019d been when I thought class made me safer than responsibility.<\/p>\n

My parents tried one final move: they sent a gift to the hospital with a note that said, \u201cFor our grandson. When you\u2019re ready to come back.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sent it back unopened.<\/p>\n

Alyssa looked at me, eyes tired, and asked, \u201cDo you regret it?\u201d<\/p>\n

I thought about the life I might\u2019ve had if I\u2019d kept choosing comfort\u2014country club dinners, curated friends, the illusion of control.<\/p>\n

Then I looked at my son\u2019s tiny hand wrapped around my finger, and I knew.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cI regret the way I treated you before I learned what love costs.\u201d<\/p>\n

We\u2019re not a fairytale. Alyssa and I didn\u2019t become perfect. Some days are hard. Some days she still flinches when someone says \u201cgold digger\u201d online. Some days I still hear my father\u2019s voice calling her \u201crisk.\u201d<\/p>\n

But we\u2019re building something real\u2014without leverage, without cages, without lies.<\/p>\n

If you\u2019ve ever judged someone\u2019s worth by their \u201cclass,\u201d or watched a family try to crush the person who didn\u2019t fit their image, you already know how this story happens. It happens quietly, through doubt, through assumptions, through people calling cruelty \u201cprotection.\u201d<\/p>\n

And if you\u2019ve read this far, you\u2019ve probably formed an opinion\u2014about Nathan, about Alyssa, about the parents, about what \u201cresponsibility\u201d should look like.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s the point.<\/p>\n

Because the stories that spread aren\u2019t the ones where everyone behaves perfectly. They\u2019re the ones where the truth is messy\u2014and the choice to do better is still possible.<\/span>\"\"<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I didn\u2019t think of myself as a bad guy. Just\u2026 practical. My name is Nathan Cole. Twenty-eight. Finance job downtown. Friends who wore watches that cost more than my first car. Parents who believed you married \u201cwithin your lane,\u201d because love was nice, but reputation was forever. Alyssa Rivera wasn\u2019t in my lane. She worked […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":4896,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4895","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-life-true"],"yoast_head":"\nI got her pregnant, but I didn\u2019t want to marry her. She was not in my class, and I felt she got pregnant just to cage me. How sure was I that the child even belonged to me? - Life's True Purpose<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/stories.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=4895\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"I got her pregnant, but I didn\u2019t want to marry her. She was not in my class, and I felt she got pregnant just to cage me. How sure was I that the child even belonged to me? - Life's True Purpose\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"I didn\u2019t think of myself as a bad guy. Just\u2026 practical. My name is Nathan Cole. Twenty-eight. Finance job downtown. Friends who wore watches that cost more than my first car. Parents who believed you married \u201cwithin your lane,\u201d because love was nice, but reputation was forever. Alyssa Rivera wasn\u2019t in my lane. 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