“Yeah?”
“You did the right thing calling me. A lot of women in your position wouldn’t have. You’re protecting yourself and your children. That takes strength.”
I felt my throat constrict.
“Thank you.”
I hung up and sat there on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall.
Two calls down.
Two steps toward taking back control.
But the weight of it all was starting to press down on me—the twins, the betrayal, the uncertainty of what came next.
And then, without warning, the tears came.
Not the angry tears from earlier. Not the frustrated tears or the shocked tears.
These were different.
These were the tears I’d been holding back since the moment Winston walked into that exam room.
Since the moment I realized Amai had been lying to me.
Since the moment I understood that I was alone in this.
I pressed my hands to my face and let myself cry—deep, shaking sobs that tore through my chest and left me gasping for air.
I cried because I’d fallen for him.
I cried because part of me still loved him, even now, even after everything.
I cried because I’d wanted this—wanted a family, wanted a partner, wanted someone to build a life with.
And I cried because I was going to be a single mother.
Just like my mama.
I thought about her—about the way she’d raised us alone after our father died. About the way she’d worked two jobs and still couldn’t make ends meet. About the way she’d sacrificed everything for us and still felt like it wasn’t enough.
I’d watched her struggle my entire life.
I’d watched her cry when the bills piled up. I’d watched her skip meals so we could eat. I’d watched her age faster than she should have because the weight of raising four daughters alone had broken something inside her.
And I’d promised myself I would never be in that position.
I’d promised myself I’d choose better. I’d build better. I’d be better.
But here I was.
Pregnant with twins.
Alone.
Betrayed by the man I’d started to love.
I wiped my face with the back of my hand and took a shaky breath.