My hand shook once, and Daniel waited until it steadied.
When he left, I did not feel triumphant.
I felt as though I had taken one step onto a bridge without knowing what waited at the other end.
Alexander did not stop trying to reach me.
He sent no flowers or jewelry, and for that I was grateful.
Instead, his messages became simpler.
I’ll respect your space.
Please tell me when you have your next appointment.
I don’t expect you to answer anything else right now.
I did not respond, but I began saving the messages rather than deleting them.
It felt like a small, necessary distinction.
A few days later, I went to my prenatal appointment alone.
The clinic smelled of disinfectant and warm paper, and the waiting room was filled with expectant parents speaking softly over magazines and cups of coffee.
I kept my eyes on the floor until the nurse called my name.
