As Sabrina settled back onto the pillows, a quiet resilience began to beat in her chest—a feeling she hadn't experienced in years. She allowed herself to glance around the room, letting reality sink in—she was going to be a mother with or without Benedict's approval or belief. Where she had once dreamed of their future together, she now realized that hers didn't need to end where his indifference began.
She had spent so long trying to piece together the broken shards of their crippled marriage, hanging onto every crumb of affection that Benedict had dangled in her way, no matter how small or short-lived. It was freeing and terrifying. In the warm light of Teresa's encouragement, a new path lay before Sabrina, one of joy and strength untainted by Benedict's presence.
She was carrying this
