When Ravi's car drove away, I stood still on the sidewalk for a few seconds, hugging myself, as if the cold London wind could pierce through my bones. The sound of the engine faded down the street, and only then did I take a deep breath, trying to organize the feelings spinning inside me.
It had been... intense.
The ultrasound, the sound of my baby's heartbeat, the way Ravi looked at that screen as if the whole world had stopped there. For a moment, everything seemed right. For a moment, I felt safe.
But the moment passed.
With every step toward the old, peeling building where I live, the weight of reality fell back onto my shoulders.
When I climbed the narrow stairs and reached our apartment, I already felt my stomach churning—and it wasn't just from the pregnancy.
I pushed the door
