Scarlett
I stared at the small stick in my trembling hands, my breath caught in my throat. Two lines.
Two pink lines. That’s all it takes to shatter my world for the second time in as many months. I stared at the pregnancy test until my vision blurred, willing the lines to fade, to reveal this as just another cruel joke. But they remained, blunt and undeniable against the white plastic.
My legs gave out, and I slid down the bathroom wall to the cold tile floor. His child. Our child. The thought sent a wave of nausea through me that had nothing to do with morning sickness. My hands instinctively moved to my still-flat stomach, and I was struck by the strange duality of the moment—how something so small could feel so impossibly heavy. There was life inside me. A piece of him, a piece of t
