David
The door clicked shut so softly it could’ve been mistaken for wind.
But I knew better.
I froze mid-sentence, the words still burning in the air like acid gas.
“I didn’t ask for this family. I didn’t ask for this pregnancy.”
And just like that, I wanted to rip my own tongue out.
Jasmine stiffened beside me, her expression shifting. Not surprised—just disappointed. Her eyes flicked toward the hallway like a silent verdict.
I didn’t want to ask.
Did she hear?
Of course she heard.
That door doesn’t close itself.
My chest tightened, lungs forgetting how to do their job. For a second, all I could hear was the echo of my own voice—cruel, detached, too honest for comfort. And somewhere past that… the shuffle of footsteps retreating down the hall. Her footsteps.
No confrontation.
