“— We haven’t been talking lately, but you have the right to know that I’m pregnant.” He raises his eyebrows: “— Why did you come to me?” “— I didn’t have anyone except you,” I hold on with all my might so I don’t break into tears. “— This child isn’t mine. I don’t believe you.” He turns around and leaves. “— Right now you’re making the biggest mistake of your life,” I say as he walks away. “— The mistake will be yours. If you leave this child.”
***
Once, we loved each other. Now he has another family and a five-year-old daughter. And I have… a cold bed and a twelve-year-old son—the one from which he suggested getting rid of years ago.