I still remember the moment as if it were yesterday. The rain tapped gently against the windowpane, the tea on the counter had gone cold, and my heart had already begun to crack before he even said the words.
“I think we need to talk,” Michael said, avoiding my eyes.
I smiled nervously, resting a hand over my belly, already swelling ever so slightly. “About what?”
He took a deep breath, and what followed shattered my world.
“I… I don’t think I can do this. I’m in love with someone else. Her name is Lisa. We’ve been together for a few months now.”
The room spun. My vision blurred. But I still managed to whisper, “I’m pregnant, Michael.”
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He flinched. “I know. That’s why I’m here. I think it would be best if you… you ended it.”
A chill rushed through my body. “Ended it?”
“The baby. This situation. You deserve someone who wants this. And I… I want to be with Lisa. She’s ready to start a life with me now, not with a baby in the picture.”
I could barely speak. “So you’re saying if I don’t go through with an abortion… you’re leaving?”
He didn’t answer, but the silence said everything.
That night, as I lay in bed alone, one hand on my belly and tears streaming down my face, I realized the truth: This was not the man I had fallen in love with. That man would have never asked me to choose between him and our child.
So I chose.
I chose the tiny heartbeat fluttering inside me. I chose life. I chose love—just not the kind Michael had offered.
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I moved out of our home a week later. It was too painful to stay.
I found a tiny apartment near my parents, who, thank God, welcomed me with open arms. My mom made me soup and told me stories about how she raised me. My dad cried for the first time in years when I told him what had happened.
At my first ultrasound, I saw her.
A perfect little peanut with a flickering heartbeat and little arms already forming.
A girl.
I named her Hope before she was even born.
The months passed slowly. I worked part-time at a small bookstore, saved every penny, and read every book I could find on parenting. My friends dropped off one by one—except for Ella, my childhood best friend. She came to every doctor’s appointment, helped me put together the crib I bought secondhand, and painted clouds on the nursery walls.
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