20. Manuela Ferraz

When Ravi's car drove away, I stood still on the sidewalk for a few seconds, hugging myself, as if the cold London wind could pierce through my bones. The sound of the engine faded down the street, and only then did I take a deep breath, trying to organize the feelings spinning inside me.

It had been... intense.

The ultrasound, the sound of my baby's heartbeat, the way Ravi looked at that screen as if the whole world had stopped there. For a moment, everything seemed right. For a moment, I felt safe.

But the moment passed.

With every step toward the old, peeling building where I live, the weight of reality fell back onto my shoulders.

When I climbed the narrow stairs and reached our apartment, I already felt my stomach churning—and it wasn't just from the pregnancy.

I pushed the door open slowly. The living room was messy, the sofa had cushions on the floor, the television was on at low volume, and a few beer cans were scattered on the coffee table. The smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air, mixed with something sour.

"Roger?" I called, hesitantly.

No answer.

I sighed, relieved and worried at the same time. He wasn't there. I walked to the bedroom, dropped my bag on the bed, and started tidying up the living room, gathering the cans and wiping the table with a damp cloth.

I knew that if he came home and saw everything like that, anything could be a trigger.

While I was washing the dishes, I felt a twinge in my lower back and brought my hand to my belly.

"Everything is okay, my love," I murmured, speaking to the baby. "Mommy is going to take care of you. Always."

I put rice on to warm up, fried some eggs, and cut tomatoes for a quick salad. Maybe, if the food was ready, his mood would improve.

The sound of the door slamming made me jump. My heart raced.

Roger stumbled in, his uniform wrinkled and the smell of alcohol evident. He dropped his keys on the counter with force and looked me up and down.

"You're home early today," I ventured, trying to sound neutral.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice slurred.

"Dinner."

He looked at the sink, at the partially tidied table, and frowned.

"The house was a mess when I left this morning."

"I was at work, Roger. And then..." I hesitated, gripping the cloth in my hands. "I had a doctor's appointment."

His eyes narrowed.

"A doctor's appointment."

I nodded, feeling my heart race.

"Prenatal."

For a second, I thought he was going to explode. His footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as he came toward me, and instinctively I took a step back. He stopped close enough for me to smell the strong scent of alcohol mixed with sweat.

"I hope this baby isn't making you lazy," he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

I shook my head quickly.

"No... of course not."

He was silent for a few long seconds, his eyes fixed on mine. I knew that look—it was the warning. The line between contained anger and violence.

Then, without another word, he grabbed a plate, served himself, and went to the TV, leaving a trail of tension behind him.

I finished cleaning the kitchen in silence, feeling my throat burn from holding back the tears. Every fiber of my body screamed to get out of there, to run. But I had nowhere to go. Not yet.

When I finally locked myself in the bedroom, I sat on the bed and hugged my belly, letting the tears fall in silence.

I couldn't cry in front of him. I couldn't show fear.

But there, alone, I let the fear overflow.

"Mommy is going to protect you," I whispered to the baby. "I promise."

I lay on my side, trying to find some comfort. My eyes were heavy, and the muffled sound of the TV in the living room was a constant reminder of the life I wanted to leave behind.

As sleep slowly enveloped me, I could only think of one thing: I needed to be strong, for the both of us.

I woke up before the alarm went off, the gray dawn sky filtering through the dirty bedroom window. Roger was snoring loudly, turned to the opposite side, and for a few seconds I stayed still, watching his heavy breathing. Every day, every night, was like walking through a minefield.

I got up slowly, avoiding any noise. I grabbed my bag, put on my coat, and left the apartment with light steps, only breathing a sigh of relief when I closed the door behind me.

The cold morning air cut across my face, but strangely, it made me feel more awake, more... free, even if just for a few hours.

I took a bus to the other side of the city, to a neighborhood I had seen in an ad posted on a lamppost near the café. "Small apartments for rent. Affordable price." It seemed like a distant dream, but it was a dream I needed to hold on to.

When I got off at the last stop, I found simple but quiet streets, old but well-maintained buildings, with modest gardens at the entrance. I walked past a few apartments for rent and even went inside two of them.

The first one was tiny, but had a window that let the light in, illuminating the worn wooden floor. The second one was a bit bigger, with a small bedroom and a separate kitchen. I could already imagine where I would put the crib, even knowing I might never be able to afford it on my own.

I sighed deeply as I left, sitting on the sidewalk step in front of the building.

I couldn't keep living like this.

With Roger... it wasn't a life. And now it wasn't just about me. It was about the baby. About the promise I made to protect that life growing inside me.

I thought about Ravi. About how he held the ultrasound picture so carefully, about how determined he seemed to be present, even when I tried to push him away.

Would he help me?

Maybe if I told him everything... If I explained that I just needed a safe place to live, that I could put the lease in his name or, I don't know, the baby's... I wouldn't mind. I just needed to leave.

I picked up my phone with trembling hands, stared at the screen for a few seconds, and then tapped his number.

My heart raced when he answered almost immediately.

"Manu?" His voice was warm, surprised.

I swallowed hard.

"Ravi... can you see me today?"

There was a short pause, and then the answer came firm, without hesitation:

"Of course I can. Where do you want me to go?"

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling a glimmer of hope pierce through the wall of fear I had been carrying for months. Maybe... maybe I had finally found a way out.