“I can’t wait to meet you,” I whisper, letting myself feel excited for a moment.

Of course this is not how I planned things would go, but it feels somewhat healing to know I get to mother this child when my own mother was never given that chance. “You are so loved.”

While my pizza is in the oven, I take a quick shower and pull on an oversized T-shirt, forgoing any underwear because it’s too hot.

Bypassing the wine that I would normally choose to accompany my dinner, I settle for a soda and plate up my dinner, silently vowing to grab a green smoothie on the way to work tomorrow to make up for my lack of nutrients tonight.

Just as Friends is loading on the TV, a knock sounds at the door.

“Seriously?” I get to my feet. “Can I ever get a moment’s peace?”

Throwing open the door, I let out a surprised gasp as I find Andre leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest and a deep scowl on his face.

“A-Andre?” I glance past him into the hallway. “What are you doing here? Wait. How do you know where I live?”

“You’re pregnant,” he growls.

My blood runs cold as I look into his eyes.

“You…know?” I whisper.

He nods, his eyes filled with contempt. “I suggest you let me inside.”

My body obeys him, and I step to the side.

He turns his back to me as he closes the door, and I suddenly feel unsafe.

I press myself against the kitchen counter, glancing around for a knife or a pair of scissors?—

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Andre says under his breath.

I freeze, my breath catching in my throat as he turns to face me.

“What do you want?” My voice shakes.

“I want to know why you didn’t fucking tell me!” he yells.

I flinch, my hands instinctively moving to my abdomen.

Andre clocks the movement, and his eyes narrow. “I had a right to know, Lila.”

My knees are threatening to buckle beneath me.

I can’t bring myself to look at Andre, to see the anger in his eyes.

“Start talking.”

I shake my head, my hair falling in front of my face as tears start to run down my cheeks.

“Lila!”

I cover my mouth with my hand to muffle the sob that escapes my lips.

“Please,” I manage to whisper. “D-don’t make me get rid of it. I want nothing from you. I’m begging you, Andre—” My voice cracks, and my entire body is overcome with sadness as I look toward the fridge, at the sonogram photo pinned there.

“Is that why you didn’t tell me?”

I nod, my vision blurring with tears as I look at the photo of my baby. Our baby.