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Shock, absolutely.

But nothing?

Nothing almost hurts the most.

His expression went completely blank when I told him. There was absolutely no reaction, no emotion.

Then he left.

He left me sitting there, alone.

It took me thirty minutes to leave because I kept expecting him to come back and talk to me, to say something.

Instead, there was just a ruckus coming from his bedroom.

At that moment, I felt like the ice queen everyone accuses me of being. Everything in my body went cold and hard. Everything shut down.

There was no warm feeling of joy to share with him: no smiles or excitement.

He left.

He’s not ready for this.

I’m ruining his life.

Only, it feels like mine is just starting, and I don’t know how to handle the conflicting feelings.

Part of me is elated.

I’m going to be a mother!

But another portion of me is devastated at Marshall’s reception of the news.

He’s so much younger than me.

There’s no way he’s ready to be a dad.

This is so much responsibility, and I know him.

He’s a womanizer.

Personizer?

What do you even call a man who sleeps with anyone who’s interested?

Man whore?

If he wants to walk away from me and our baby, fine.

I don’t need him.

I don’t even want him.

I’ll do this on my own.

Reassured by my conviction, I force my pruned hands to turn off the water. I climb out of the shower and wrap myself in a fluffy towel before making myself go through my hair care and skincare routine. But exhaustion sets in, and I can’t bring myself to do anything more than dress in a nightgown before dragging myself into my bedroom to collapse, with wet hair and all, into my bed.

Laying there, sunlight shining through the windows, I start making plans in my head. The mental list of things to do and buy eventually gets long enough to where I start a list in the note app on my phone of everything I need to do.

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