I had just walked out of the OB-GYN clinic with the ultrasound report in hand. It said I was nine weeks pregnant. That was when I realized Leo Blake had blocked me. I found a bench in the little garden outside the hospital and sat down. My heart was filled with a quiet joy. I couldn't quite name the feeling I had for the baby just yet, but the baby's father was the only family I had left in this world. I picked up my phone, full of joy, took a photo of the report, and sent it to Leo. I imagined him looking at the report, his heart swelling with the same joy I felt. There had been countless tender moments when he held me tightly in his arms, kissed me, and whispered, "Honey, I love you. Will you give me a daughter?" Although I didn't know whether the baby I was carrying was a boy or a girl, I believed that as long as it was our child, he would love the baby just as much as he loved me. Now I just sat there, staring at the red exclamation mark in the chat window, completely frozen. I couldn't believe it. Just yesterday, Leo swore he'd love me for a lifetime and protect me forever. And now, he had blocked me.