Abigail cried for weeks after he left, until one day the tears simply stopped coming. The pain did not disappear, it settled into something colder and steadier that she learned to carry every day.
She rented a small room, worked double shifts at a roadside diner, and saved every dollar she could manage. At night she would sit on her bed, rubbing her swollen feet while resting one hand gently over her belly.
“I am here,” she would whisper softly into the quiet room. “No matter what happens, I am not going anywhere.”
Labor began before sunrise and stretched into twelve long and exhausting hours that tested every ounce of her strength. Waves of pain crashed through her body as nurses guided her through each contraction, offering encouragement while wiping sweat from her trembling face.
Between broken breaths she repeated the same desperate words again and again.
“Please let my baby be okay, please just let my baby be okay.”
At exactly three seventeen in the afternoon, the baby was born. The sound of his cry filled the room, strong and alive, cutting through every moment of fear she had carried.