What was there to say?
She just watched him—watched as he checked his phone again, muttered another string of curses under his breath.If her heart weren’t splintering, she might’ve even smiled at his frustration.But the pain hollowing out her chest left no room for anything else.
Finally, he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms.
“This isn’t over,” he repeated, his voice low and fierce.
Then he kissed her—slow, sweet, aching.
The sob burst out of her before she could stop it.It came from deep inside, from the part of her that already knew she’d never be the same.
When he finally pulled back, when his hands dropped from her arms, Azlyn had to fight the urge to reach for him.To beg him to stay.Just one more moment.One more second in his arms.
But she didn’t.
She stepped back.
The pain closed around her throat, cold and merciless.
“This isn’t over,” he hissed again.
Then he turned and walked out.
No slamming door, no loud footsteps.Just the soft, final click as the door shut behind him.
And just like that, he was gone.
Her knees gave out.She slid slowly to the floor, the cool tile biting through her pajama pants.The coffee maker hissed and spit behind her, but she didn’t hear it.Didn’t care.
She buried her face in her hands and wept.
The sobs came in waves—raw, ugly, endless.It was too much.All of it.These past few days had been magic.Every laugh, every kiss, every whispered promise under the covers.She hadn’t believed in fairytales until him.
But now he was gone.
And it felt like he’d taken all of it with him—her joy, her strength, her breath.
Everything.
Or almost everything.
Three months later, Azlyn stared down at the white stick in her shaking hands.
Two pink lines.
Positive.
Pregnant.
She sat on the edge of the bathtub, the world tilting slightly around her.Her pulse thudded in her ears.The bathroom light hummed faintly overhead.Her fingers curled tighter around the test.
A thousand emotions crashed through her.
Shock.Awe.Terror.Wonder.
And underneath all of it… something fierce and trembling.
Joy.
