Not A Nice Reunion.

Amy’s POV.

The voices outside my room grew louder, sharp like knives scraping against each other. One was my mom’s voice—shaking, breaking, and filled with fear. The other was deep and rough, carrying something cold inside it, like he had swallowed gravel.

I sat on my bed, knees pulled to my chest, my door only half closed, but every word slipped through that small gap like whispers meant to find me. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would break my ribs.

I had been thinking about the baby again, the small life inside me, the one I had no idea how to care for. I wasn’t ready to be a mother. I was just eighteen. I still wanted to figure myself out, and not to be someone’s everything.

But ready or not, I had decided one thing—I wanted this baby. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was stupid. But if no one else in this world stayed, if no one else chose me, this child would. I would be their mother. I would fight for them, even when I had no fight left for myself.

Still, a part of me wish