“It’s my baby.”
I blinked. “Your… baby?”
Another nod.
The candle on the table flickered. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.
The chicken was getting cold. The adoption brochures sat there, mocking me.
“How long?” I asked, my voice eerily calm.
“How. Long.”
“Six months.”
And that was it.
No excuses. No “I messed up” reasons. Just silence, and the sound of my breath trying not to break.
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