There was a brief pause on the line before his tone changed into something dismissive and indifferent. “Fine then,” he said flatly, “I only wanted to inform you,” and then the call ended.
I lowered the phone slowly and stared up at the white hospital ceiling while a familiar heaviness settled in my chest. The pain was not sharp like heartbreak used to be but it still carried the dull weight of memories that had never fully faded.
Our marriage had not ended because we stopped loving each other. It ended because Travis believed success and ambition mattered far more than building a family together.
When I first told him I was pregnant his reaction had shocked me deeply. He accused me of trying to trap him with a baby that would slow down his career, and only a month later he filed for divorce before disappearing from my life completely.
Thirty minutes passed quietly inside the hospital room while the soft breathing of my daughter filled the silence. I drifted in and out of sleep until the door suddenly flew open with such force that several nurses outside gasped in surprise.