echoing in my ears. Pregnant. Six weeks. I placed a hand on my sti

to confirm the details, a place known for its discretion. As I sat

a sticky lollipop in his hand, and deliberately pressed the gooey cand

said, his tone more ti

pen door, I heard Julian's voice, clear and firm, speaking to a doctor. "This one," he said, gesturing pr

y trembling. A moment later, the door swung open. It was Seraphina. S

low hiss. "It's useless even if you are pregnant.

otionless mask. I pushed past her without a word. As I reach

h shouted, his voice echoing in the qu

shing me. This toxic, fractured thing he called

first was to schedule an aborti

e cold and steady. "I want everything split d

, my phone rang. It was Jul

pletely f

s voice laced with practiced regret. "A cris

ost escaped my lip

for you tonight. For your birthday and for the bi

eated, my voi

of unease, a feeling that something precious was slipping through his