Things escalated quickly, and before I knew it, we were both naked, tangled in sweat and desire, the night consuming us.
Yet, when morning came, the cold emptiness of the bed greeted me. Donovan was gone, just as he always was after nights like this. No note, no explanation, just his absence. A hollow feeling settled in my chest as I lay bare on the bed, replaying the events of the night before.
Disgust and regret occupied me.
How had I let it happen again?
Weeks passed and Donovan's temper flared more frequently, leaving me with more bruises and tear-streaked cheeks.
But beyond that, something else was happening to me. I had been feeling nauseous lately, especially in the mornings. There were times where I would even vomit and crave foods I had never really liked.
So, today, I decided to visit the doctor to confirm what's going on with my body. As I sat in the sterile, quiet hospital lobby, my stomach churned with sickness and anxiety.
After a few minutes, the doctor finally appeared, holding a folder with my results, her expression calm but with a hint of something more.