Last night, because my pregnancy signs were harsh, I called Zion, but I heard messy gasps coming from the other end.
“Brother Zion, tell me, between me and that woman, who holds more space in your heart?”
I clearly heard Zion’s voice, the man who once promised he would care for me his whole life, heavy with desire.
“Of course it’s you. That woman is dull from the start. After she got pregnant, she puffed up like a pig. Just seeing her makes me want to throw up.”
In that moment, the baby in my belly went still, and the heart in my chest went quiet too.
Since Zion was no longer the Zion who once cared for me, I chose to cut away the father, keep the child, and hand him back his freedom.
Only after I truly walked off did he lose his mind searching for me.
1
On my thirtieth birthday, the first “surprise” I got was a livestream.
On the screen, Zion held an esports female streamer by the back of her neck and kissed her.
But an hour earlier, he had been kneeling in front of me, kissing my eight-month pregnant stomach.
All the guests at the banquet turned to look at me at once, showing pity and barely held-back excitement.
“Ma’am…”