Lost in the dark

Thrown away

I don’t know why I stayed standing there.

My legs felt weak, but I didn’t fall. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Daniel was still on the bed. She was still there. Nothing had changed except me—something inside me had broken open, quietly, without warning.

I tried to speak.

“Daniel…”

My voice cracked. I swallowed and tried again. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t shouting. I wasn’t even accusing him. I was only trying to understand.

“I didn’t mean to come like this,” I said softly. “I just… I needed to see you.”

He looked at me with a face I didn’t recognize. Not surprise. Not guilt. Just irritation. As if I had interrupted something important.

“Why would you come unannounced?” he snapped. “You should leave.”

The words hit me harder than any slap could have.

I took a step closer, my hands shaking. I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t know how to breathe. I reached into my bag and pulled out the pregnancy strip. My fingers were trembling so badly I almost dropped it.

“I’m pregnant,” I whispered.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then everything changed.

His face hardened. His voice rose. He stood up so suddenly I flinched.

“What nonsense is this?” he shouted. “Get out.”

I tried to speak again, but before I could, he shoved me backward. Not hard enough to knock me down, but enough to tell me exactly where I stood. I stumbled, my back hitting the wall, my breath leaving me in a sharp gasp.

“Don’t ever come back here,” he said coldly.

Then he walked to the door and locked it behind me, like I was something dirty that had wandered into his space by mistake.

“You were nothing,” he continued, his voice cutting deep. “Just someone I used to pass time. My real girlfriend is Shida. You meant nothing to me.”

Each word felt deliberate. Calculated. Cruel.

“I don’t need you anymore,” he said. “Do whatever you want with your life. I don’t love you. I never did.”

I stood there, my heart breaking piece by piece, unable to move, unable to cry.

Trash.

That was what he called me.

I don’t remember how I left. I don’t remember walking down the stairs or stepping into the street. I only remember the weight in my chest, the ringing in my ears, and the way my hands instinctively went to my stomach—as if to protect the only thing left that hadn’t rejected me yet.

I had gone there to share news that terrified me.

I left knowing I had been alone all along.