Life doesn’t always fall apart all at once. Sometimes it unravels slowly, quietly, in ways that are almost easy to ignore—until suddenly there’s nothing left to hold onto. That’s where I found myself at thirty-four weeks pregnant, standing in a house that no longer felt like mine, surrounded by unopened bills and unanswered questions about a future I wasn’t ready to face. I had imagined pregnancy differently. There were supposed to be shared plans, late-night conversations, a sense of building something together. Instead, there was silence. The man I thought would stand beside me had made his decision quickly and...
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