I sent long messages at first, then shorter ones, then just a single line asking if he was okay.
Nothing.
Nora watched me from the kitchen one morning, arms folded.
“You’re going to make yourself sick begging a man who already made up his mind.”
“I just need him to hear me.”
“Elena, you’ve been begging to be heard since we were kids. When does someone finally have to earn the right to listen?”
I did not have an answer for her.
I bought a pregnancy test that afternoon on impulse, mostly to rule it out.
I set it on the bathroom counter, telling myself I was being ridiculous. That stress could make anyone’s cycle late.
When I looked again, two pink lines stared back at me.
My knees gave out.
I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the cold tile floor, gripping the plastic stick so tightly my fingers hurt.
“No,” I whispered.
