He didn’t seem suspicious, but he wasn’t budging either.
“It’s rare for us to come back for the New Year,” he replied, setting a hand lightly on my belly. “Let’s stay a few more days. The baby’s healthy—it’ll be fine. Don’t stress.”
After he left, I grabbed my phone and sent a message to my family group chat:
[Mom, you're right. I’ll listen to you. I’m not keeping this child.]
My mom had never liked David. She used to say he was too cunning, too manipulative, and that I’d regret marrying him.
But I’d been stubborn—a fool blinded by the idea of love. I thought I was fighting for something meaningful.
Her reply came quickly: [As long as you’ve made up your mind, that’s all that matters. Mom will always support you.]
Tears blurred my vision as I stared out the window. The forest outside was pitch black, the trees like looming shadows ready to swallow everything whole.
If I hadn’t forgotten my glasses, I would’ve driven myself out of there that very moment. But for now, I was trapped. I couldn’t leave, and I couldn’t provoke him.
I needed a plan.
...
The next morning, David tried to wake me up, but I didn’t respond.