Part 3How Could I Get Her Pregnant When I’m a Girl?

But the mockery and slander didn't stop; they only intensified:

“Alright, stop making stuff up! You two brothers are both bad news!”

“These days, scumbags have seriously deep schemes. Girls, remember this if you ever scroll past it!”

In less than an hour, I, who had done absolutely nothing, became the target of online hate.

I stopped Alex from trying to defend me and looked at Brittany, who appeared so fragile and easily victimized.

*Okay, so you want to sling mud, huh?*

*We’ll see who ends up standing clean in front of everyone!*

I looked at Brittany, still sobbing, and curved my lips into a slight smirk:

“What evidence do you have to prove that the baby in your belly is mine?”

The crowd instantly quieted. Those holding phones to livestream instinctively pointed their cameras at Brittany, awaiting her answer.

A flicker of panic crossed Brittany’s face, but it was quickly masked by an even more torrential flow of tears:

“Evidence? You’re asking me for evidence? That night at the hotel… you, you mean you’ve forgotten everything?”

“Which hotel? Which night?”

I asked calmly, as if discussing the weather.

“What was the room number? Where’s the booking record? Or…”

My gaze swept down to her abdomen:

“Can you produce anything that proves I had physical contact with you? Anything that proves I have a biological connection to the child in your belly?”

A trace of embarrassment flushed Brittany’s face:

“How can you ask me to talk about something like that? Isn’t the baby the best proof?”

Mr. Thompson frowned, seeming to think my questions were a bit much.

“Hayden, this is getting out of hand! How could Brittany, a girl, produce specific evidence for such intimate matters?”

“Can’t produce it?”

I raised an eyebrow, my voice suddenly louder, sweeping my gaze over the cameras at the door:

“So, you’re saying it's all based on her word? Whoever she *says* the father is, *is* the father?”

“Then today, could I stand here and point to any male student, or even to *you*, and say the baby is yours?”

“You’re talking nonsense!”

Mr. Thompson was furious.

I scoffed, finally letting my anger show:

“Teacher! Before you accuse me of being out of line, why don’t you consider this: based solely on her unilateral accusation, with no substantial evidence, you’re forcing me to take responsibility for her. Is that fair to me?”

No sooner had I spoken than Brittany’s voice rang out again:

“You want evidence? Fine!”

She pulled out her phone and displayed several screenshots:

“This is the movie ticket you bought for us, this is the receipt from the dinner you treated me to, and this… this is the record from the first time we stayed in a room together…”

She paused, lowering her voice, but it was loud enough for everyone present to hear:

“The baby in my belly was conceived the third time we stayed in a room. Honey, are you still going to deny it now?”

*No wonder she kept asking me out after that first meeting—she’d been planning to frame me all along!*

I glanced at those so-called “evidence” pieces, a cold smirk playing on my lips:

“A few questionable tickets and receipts, plus a record that could easily be Photoshopped. And you think you can make a fool out of me? Not cool!”

“Oh my god! This guy is disgusting! Didn’t he ask for evidence? Now that she has it, he denies it!”

“Jerk, he’s clearly just trying to shirk responsibility!”

Hearing the public opinion overwhelmingly against me, Brittany’s tears welled up again:

“Honey, how can you slander me like this?!”

“I know our families are very different, and you think I’m not good enough for you, but the baby is innocent!”