When I woke up in the operating room, several messages flashed across my phone. All of them were from Sebastian.
[No matter how things were between us before, now I’m me and you’re you. If you’ve got the energy to find someone to act and deceive me, you should just move out of my house!]
He’d been considerate enough to rent a place for me in the same neighborhood, leaving the key ready for me to move in. He even paid the first month's rent. To avoid suspicion, the contract was for a year.
[For the sake of our past, you don’t have to repay me for this.]
I glanced at the bloody, distorted image of the embryo, my heart feeling heavier, but my response remained calm.
[Okay, thank you.]
The rent was the last bit of responsibility he was fulfilling for this child.
I stayed in the hospital for three days, but he never contacted me again. Still, his social media was a constant stream of wild parties. It was as if he was desperately trying to reclaim the freedom he’d missed out on all these years because of me.
I knew he was posting for my benefit. But I couldn’t see those updates from the other account I had made just to follow him.
As he wished, I liked every video.