The next morning, sunlight streamed through my curtains, casting warm patches of light across the room. I woke up earlier than usual, my mind a storm of thoughts. Dante’s reaction last night had been far calmer than I expected, but it left me with more questions than answers.
He had said we’d face this together, but what did that even mean? The child wasn’t just mine—it was his, too. How could he so easily agree to take on this responsibility when his life was already tangled in shadows I didn’t fully understand?
I dragged myself out of bed, groaning as I felt a wave of nausea hit. My mornings had become an exhausting ritual of trying to keep food down while pretending to Lisa and everyone else at work that everything was fine. I’d managed to hide my condition so far, but it felt like I
