It was Janet, his mother.
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” Her voice was strained with anger. “He told me he had a work trip. I didn’t know he’d left you like this.
But don’t you worry. You’re not going through this alone. I’ll be there.
I promise.”
I couldn’t speak. I just stood there in my kitchen, eight and a half months pregnant, staring at a note from the man who’d promised me everything.
“Cindy? Are you still there?”
“Yeah,” I managed.
“I’m here.”
“Listen to me. What he did is unforgivable, and trust me, he’s going to answer for it. But right now, you need to focus on you and that baby.
I’ll be there the second you need me. Do you understand?”
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