No wonder my cramps never got better.
What I'd mistaken for tenderness was arsenic wrapped in sugar.
I clutched the lab report so tightly my knuckles went white. I could barely breathe.
I didn't remember how I got home.
I burrowed under the covers, my hands moving on their own, scrolling, searching for every trace of him and Janet.
On Janet's social media, she'd documented her entire pregnancy.
For the first six months, she'd played the role of a single mother who'd run off with her baby bump.
Then, gradually, a man began appearing in her posts.
27 weeks + 3 days: Couldn't help myself. When my ex was confessing his feelings to another woman, I told him about the baby. He was furious, but he still gave me the gift he'd bought for his girlfriend's confession. She got the freebie instead.
30 weeks + 2 days: The doctor doing my checkup made an inappropriate joke about me. He stood up for me and hurt his hand—couldn't perform surgery for days. So handsome. So in love.
Due date! I told him I was having contractions and he came running through the rain. Stayed with me all night. Turns out the baby was just kicking hard.