After some minutes, I wiped my face one last time and inhaled deeply as I forced myself to stand. My body felt so heavy it was like I was dragging chains behind me but I couldn’t let myself fall apart again. I had to keep moving.
Moving was the only way to survive.
Because my clothes were soaked with the tears I had shed out of utmost pain, I decided to change them. So I walked to my closet, selected a black midi dress that hugged my body just right but more importantly, concealed any hint of my growing stomach. It was becoming a habit now, choosing clothes that hid the secret I wasn’t ready to share. At least not yet.
I ran my hands over the fabric and smoothened out imaginary wrinkles before I slipped it on. A blazer came next and felt like just another layer of protection between me
