possibly stay away from any judgmental and pitiful looks I might likely attract in the neighborhood.

ttle better. I didn't forget my ordeal, but I was able

he scene of a newly born baby and his family taking a picture with some nurses in the garden. Th

id with a dry smile as I made my way ou

as longer than expected. Even when I felt too weak to walk down there, I was determi

ense she was hiding something from me. I couldn't bring mys

door and was about to knock on it when I faintly heard my mother's famili

ed closer quietly and placed my ear on the door. I was trying to eavesdrop, but I couldn't

irst. And I won't alter my beliefs because of you. I don't want somet

trying to abort the baby without my consent? My whole body began trembling, and I

ve her hate me later than give birth to this baby, which will make her life miserable. She deserves to be h

? What about the procedures and post-treatment?

al condition that requires surgery. That way

when I heard the doctor say it in a

left and a mix of emotions swirling within me, I str

ing heart. I held on to it tightly, like I wa

was something I couldn't have

a surge of hatred and pain in my heart. This baby was supposed to be the unden

cumstances surrounding it, but I would have at least been appreciative if my

er that it made my mom think of such drastic measures. It must have been hard for her to make such a deci

he garden and made my way to the toilet to clean

mmediately as I entered the room. She was indifferent to her usual self. She

ontact. I don't want her to suspect that I have been crying. "Why do you stay too long a

said, wrapping a muffler around my neck

ven though I knew the topic

ays got you." She said it with a sad gaze at me. Our eyes met, and then she looked away. "Go to bed; it's l

ctor and plan to abort the child because asking her might shatter her further. Ther

o or not. After all that has happened, I have no hope of loving anyone, and I plan to be alone for the rest of her li

ate into the night, making me insomniac, and I wasn't t

r confessing, chanting that none of this had anything to do with me and that although the child was innocent, my happiness was more importan

tween my legs and crying silently with hot tears dripping down my face. I feel really

her mother; I don't want her to be guilt-tripping for the rest of her life. I needed to stand up