Chapter 42

BECCA

Sometimes, I wonder why I even try.

A year and a half ago, I stared down at those two pink lines, my hands shaking, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. I was finally going to be a mother. Just like I’d always dreamed of.

I remember sitting on the bathroom floor long after the test confirmed it, staring at my reflection like I didn’t recognize the girl looking back. I smiled. I cried. I laughed. I whispered, I’m going to love you so much, to something that wasn’t even visible yet.

But dreams are funny things, aren’t they?

Because the reality was nothing like the fairytale I’d imagined.

The father of my baby—the man I loved—wasn’t the man I thought he was. He hadn’t just broken up with his girlfriend of ten years like he’d claimed. No, he was still with her. Still choosing her. Still going home to her. Still saying her name like it mattered more.

But he had an excuse, of course. She’s fragile, he told me.