The word sometimes felt painfully small.
I drove home without turning on the radio.
I did not call anyone.
I parked in my driveway and remained behind the steering wheel for almost an hour.
Pregnant.
The word rearranged everything I believed about my body, my marriage, and the years of blame I had accepted.
I opened Evan’s contact information on my phone.
My thumb hovered over his name.
Telling him seemed like the decent and responsible choice.
Then I remembered Marlene declaring that women like me did not have babies.
I also remembered Evan saying nothing.
I locked the phone.
I told myself I needed a few days before making any decision.
Those days became weeks.
I kept the pregnancy private because I wanted peace, not revenge.
If Evan learned about the baby, Marlene would learn too.
I could already imagine her turning every appointment into an argument, every medical decision into a family vote, and every rumor into a weapon.
