And I just touched myself fantasizing about the man who broke me.
I curl onto my side, pulling the blanket tight, whilst tears slide across my temple into my hair.
My body feels satisfied in the most hollow way possible. The ache is gone but the emptiness is devastating.
I can't separate it. The physical from the emotional. The desire from the love from the hurt. With Daniel, it was never just sex. Every touch meant something. Every time he held me, I felt safe.
And now I'm lying here still wanting him despite everything.
My hand finds my stomach again—the curve where the baby grows.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm sorry you're stuck with a mother who can't even hate your father properly."
More tears. I let them fall because fighting them takes energy I don't have.
Eventually, exhaustion wins. I fall asleep with tears still wet on my face and the taste of shame bitter in my mouth.
When I wake up three hours later to get ready for my shift, I shove this moment into the same locked box where I keep all the other things I can't afford to feel.
Survival means putting one foot in front of the other.
Even when your body still aches for the person who broke you.
***
Trevor calls on a Tuesday morning, a much needed day off three days after I give up on sleeping through the night.
"Hey," I answer, trying to sound normal.
"You've been weird for weeks." His voice is sharp. Suspicious. "What's going on?"
"I'm fine. Just busy with the new job."
"What new job? You loved Williams."
Silence stretches between us. I can feel it cracking, this facade I've been maintaining.
"Bay." His voice softens. "Talk to me."
And suddenly, I can't hold it together anymore.
"I got fired." The words tumble out. "Three weeks ago. By Daniel."
The silence on the other end is deafening.
"Daniel?" His voice changes. Gets quieter. Which is somehow worse. "My Daniel? What the fuck happened?"
So I tell him.
Not everything—I skip the intimate details, the way Daniel looked at me in London, the mornings waking up in his bed. But I tell him about the fake dating arrangement. About it becoming real. About falling for someone who was too broken to let himself be loved. About Daniel ending it with brutal efficiency and firing me in the same breath.
And then, because I can't keep it from him anymore, I tell him about the baby.
The silence when I finish is bad.
"Trevor?"
"You're pregnant." His voice is flat. Controlled. "With Daniel's baby."
