Each line felt like a new wound, describing how he had been feeling trapped, how the thought of being a father loomed over him like a shadow. “I wish I could say I wanted this. I don’t,” it read with cold finality. “I’ve considered leaving. I hope you can understand.”
My vision blurred with tears. The weight of his words sank in, suffocating me. Ethan had never wanted this life. He had been planning his escape long before I even knew I was pregnant.
“You never wanted to be a father,” I whispered, my voice trembling. The realization shattered the last pieces of hope I had held onto.
As I crumpled the letter in my fist, the reality of our situation crashed down around me. I was alone, left to face the uncertain fate of our newborn, and all of Ethan’s doubts now lay between us like an insurmountable wall.
