I went to the bathroom, closed the door behind me, turned on the tap—and started crying.
Silently, as the water rushed into the sink, I let the tears fall. I had to. I needed to get it all out in here, alone, because I couldn’t let Asher see me like this. If he saw me break, he’d know. He’d know I didn’t want this. He’d know something was wrong. And I couldn’t let that happen.
Right now, my job—the only job I had left—was to make him hate me. Because that’s the only way he’d walk away.
If he hated me, he wouldn’t fight for me. He wouldn’t try to stay. He wouldn’t ask questions.
So I looked at myself in the mirror, washed my face, and whispered, 'This is for our baby.'
Lives were at stake. That’s what this felt like. That’s what I was telling myself.
One day, maybe this wouldn’t hurt
