ERASED FROM HIS PACK, CARRYING HIS HEIR

Something was wrong the moment he walked through that door. I felt it before I saw it — the way his footsteps hit the floor too hard, the way his jaw was locked tight, the way he wouldn't look at me straight on. Three years of marriage teaches you a man's silences. This one had teeth in it.I'd been standing there for the better part of an hour, rehearsing. I had a whole speech ready — soft opening, a joke maybe, something to ease into it before I told him the moon goddess had finally answered us after three years of trying. Two weeks pregnant. I'd practiced saying it out loud in the mirror until it stopped catching in my throat."Ethan." I said his name carefully, testing the air of the room. "You're back early."He didn't answer. He crossed to the table and set something down on it — a folder, thick, official — and my stomach dropped before I even read the words on the cover."What is this?""Divorce papers." He said it flat, like he was reading me a supply order. "I need you to sig

The taxi pulled up outside a building I hadn't seen in years, and for a moment I just sat there in the backseat, staring up at it through rain-streaked glass, my hand still pressed to my stomach. My father must have known the second I called him that I'd end up here instead of his front door. He always understood things about me before I said them out loud.I paid the driver with hands that wouldn't quite stop shaking and stepped out into rain that hadn't let up once since I'd left Ethan's house. By the time I reached the entrance I was shivering hard enough that my teeth ached, and the building didn't offer much comfort — cobwebs thick across the doorframe, the whole place looking like it had been holding its breath for years waiting for someone to come back.I pushed the door open and it groaned like it resented being disturbed. Dust rolled out to meet me, and I coughed hard enough to double over, one hand braced against the frame."Great," I muttered out loud, to no one. "This is f

I hadn't stepped foot in a hospital in years, and walking into one now, alone, without a hand to hold, felt strange in a way I didn't expect. It was here I'd finally get it confirmed properly — not just the two lines on a test I'd taken alone in a bathroom weeks ago, but the real thing, the doctor's word, the proof. I sat in the waiting room fidgeting with the hem of my sleeve, watching other people come and go, half of them with someone beside them, and I told myself firmly that I didn't need that."First time here?" The receptionist glanced up at me, kind but efficient."First time in years," I said."And is dad joining you today?"The question landed harder than she meant it to. "No," I said, steadier than I felt. "It's just me."She didn't push, just nodded and handed me a clipboard, and I sat there filling out forms with a pen that skipped every third letter, my knee bouncing under the table the whole time.When the nurse finally called my name, I followed her back, heart doing s

Two weeks into working at Dorothy's shop, I'd learned the rhythm of the place well enough to move through it without thinking — where the register stuck if you didn't lift the drawer just right, which regulars wanted small talk and which wanted to be left alone with their books, the exact hour of the afternoon when Dorothy disappeared into the back for tea and left me to run the front alone.I liked it more than I expected to. There was something steadying about small, repeatable tasks after months of chaos. Ring up a sale. Shelve a return. Answer a question about where to find the romance section, which I did now with a straight face despite everything."You're glowing today," Dorothy said, coming out from the back with two mugs, setting one in front of me on the counter even though I'd told her three times she didn't need to keep making me tea."I'm always glowing. It's called being seven weeks pregnant and slightly nauseous most mornings.""No, this is different glowing." She studi

Camille moved first.She stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her, and for a second neither of us said anything at all. The bell above the door had stopped swinging. Dorothy had gone quiet behind the counter, sensing the way older women always seem to sense these things, that whatever was happening in the doorway of her shop was not a customer inquiry."Elena." Camille said my name carefully, like she was testing whether it was still allowed."You shouldn't be here." My voice came out flatter than I expected, steadier too. Good. Let it be steady."I didn't know this was your—" She gestured vaguely at the shop, at me, at the stack of returns still sitting useless in my arms. "I was just walking. I didn't plan this.""You never plan anything, Camille. That's always been the problem."Her jaw tightened. "That's not fair.""Fair." I set the returns down on the counter, slow and deliberate, buying myself a second to breathe. "You want to talk to me about fair."Dorothy appear