Ella
The pregnancy test results burned a hole in my pocket. Two pink lines on a small white stick, along with the official lab paperwork confirming what those lines meant.
I was carrying Alexander’s child.
For three days straight, I pulled that test out of my pocket and stared at it, trying to wrap my mind around the reality of what was growing inside of me. Three days of holding the proof in my hands while my husband avoided me like I had the plague.
Three days of looking at the abortion pamphlet and trying to decide what the hell I was going to do.
The first morning after our conversation about children, I’d woken to an empty bed and the distant sound of Alexander’s car leaving the driveway. He didn’t return until well after midnight, long after I’d already gone to be
