Evelyn sat by the glass window with her back rigid against the chair. Her hands were locked together in her lap as though keeping herself from splintering apart.
Inside her mind, a quiet war raged, one she had been fighting since the moment the thought first took root, and one she was losing in slow, agonizing increments. She told herself this was necessary. That it was practical. That some choices, no matter how cruel they felt, were still choices made for survival. She repeated the reasons like a litany, clinging to them as if they might harden into certainty if she said them often enough.
She wasn’t ready.
The world she stood in was already fractured.
Bringing a child into it would only shatter what little remained.
Yet the truth refused to stay silent.
This wasn’t just fear of Ma
