If she was pregnant…
That baby wasn’t mine.
Even so, I pulled her close.
“I’m so happy,” I said softly.
And before she could notice anything strange in my eyes, I added:
“We should celebrate. Let’s throw a big party.”
She laughed and kissed me, unaware that my heart was silently breaking.
But one detail kept haunting me.
Ten weeks.
That was how far along she said she was in her pregnancy.
And exactly ten weeks earlier, our relationship had completely fallen apart.
We’d had the worst argument we’d had in three years together. It started with my change in work schedule, but something deeper soon surfaced: resentment, distance, everything we’d ignored for far too long.
“You never tell me anything important!” she yelled.
“You’re exaggerating,” I replied.
