I could barely speak. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She sat across from me, hands folded. “Because I didn’t know if I wanted you involved. I needed time to decide what to do — about the baby, about us.”
“That was for me,” she said softly. “And for the baby. Anger raises stress hormones. It’s dangerous during pregnancy. So I chose calm. I chose peace — even when I didn’t feel it.”
I just stared at her — this woman I had wounded so deeply, yet who had somehow found the strength to protect something good in the middle of our wreckage.
“I’m not saying I forgive you,” she continued. “Forgiveness isn’t instant. It’s a process. But I want to try. I want to give this family — this child — a chance.”
I broke down crying. “I don’t deserve you.”
She smiled faintly through her own tears. “Probably not. But love isn’t about deserving. It’s about choosing. And today, I’m choosing to believe you can change.”
Six Months Later
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