“I’m pregnant,” Celina said, the words cracking in the air like brittle glass.Her sister froze mid-step, blinking as if she hadn’t heard right—or was hoping she hadn’t.Silence followed. Thick, unmoving. Not the kind that brings peace, but the kind that crushes. Even the ticking clock on the wall seemed to pause. The room held its breath.“You’re what?” her sister finally asked, voice low, disbelieving.“Pregnant.” Celina lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, as though her knees no longer trusted her weight. Her hands knotted together in her lap, the way they always did when she was trying to hold something in—fear, maybe. Or heartbreak.“It’s Gabriel’s.”Those three words changed everything.Her sister inhaled sharply, but still didn’t speak.Celina couldn’t look up. Couldn’t bear to meet the eyes of someone who might see straight through her. Her shoulders sagged. The confession had taken more out of her than she thought.It wasn’t just the pregnancy.It was the shame. The betr
The bathroom felt too quiet.Too still, like the walls were holding their breath with her.Celina sat on the edge of the tub, her body hunched forward, both hands clutching the slim plastic test like it was the last thread holding her together. Her fingers trembled. Her knuckles turned white from how tightly she gripped it.Two lines.Positive.She stared. Unblinking. As if staring long enough might change something—anything. Like maybe, if she just waited, the lines would fade, disappear, or tell a different story.But the silence only echoed louder. No mercy. No alternative.She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, but it didn’t ease the tightness in her chest. Her throat burned. Her stomach churned with an ache that wasn’t just physical.It wasn’t supposed to be like this.Not here. Not now. Not with him.She looked down again. Still two lines.She bit her lip hard, willing herself not to cry—not yet. There would be time for that later. For now, all she could do
“I won’t ask again, Gabriel.” Andrea’s voice was quiet—but underneath the calm, there was steel. The kind of tone that didn’t allow space for arguments or evasions. Gabriel stood frozen at the foot of their bed, briefcase still dangling from his hand. He had just walked in, expecting silence, maybe another cold dinner. What he got was a storm wrapped in stillness. Andrea sat upright, back straight on the edge of the mattress, her hands clenched tightly on her lap. There was no screaming this time. No dramatic tossing of plates. Just her eyes, hollowed by nights without sleep, now lit with something final.“Her or me,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite the storm behind her eyes. “Choose. Right now. Let’s make this final.”The room went still. No more room to stall. No more space to hide.Gabriel’s mouth opened, then closed again—like the words wouldn’t form, or maybe he didn’t have the right ones. His jaw tensed, throat bobbing with a swallow he couldn’t push down. “Andrea—”
The zipper caught on the old fabric for a moment, the way it always did on this suitcase. Andrea tugged harder, fingers trembling. She hadn’t meant to open it—only moved it out of the closet to make room for the boxes she’d begun packing. A quiet, half-hearted attempt at reclaiming space. But then something thin and yellowed had fluttered from the inner lining. A folded letter. No envelope. No name. Just creases softened by time, corners curled. She would’ve ignored it—should’ve—but something about the handwriting made her stomach twist. She sat on the edge of the bed, unfolded it slowly. And read. > Celina, I don’t know how to begin this except to say that every time I leave you, I feel like I’m walking away from the only thing that ever made sense to me. I’m sorry for the hours I lose to the world I live in—the one that isn’t ours. You deserve better. You always have. But I am selfish. I am broken. And you? You’re the light that makes my shadows look like something worth surv
Celina’s Family Intervenes.“I hope you’re not planning to pretend everything’s fine, Celina.”Her mother’s voice was calm—too calm. It was the kind of stillness that followed a storm, or perhaps warned of one coming. Celina stood rigid by the window of her apartment, arms tightly folded across her chest, as if she could hold herself together with sheer will.The city below bustled with noise and movement, but up here, everything felt still. The afternoon sun kissed her skin, yet she couldn’t feel its warmth. Not when the cold inside her bones had already settled in.“I didn’t ask you to come,” she replied flatly, eyes locked on nothing in particular beyond the glass.“You didn’t have to,” her mother said, stepping further into the room. “You think we wouldn’t notice the late-night calls stopped? That your voice on the phone sounds like you’re forcing yourself to breathe?”Celina’s lips parted, then shut. Her mother wasn’t here just to visit. She was here to intervene.“Sweetheart…” H
"Andrea, please…" It's another day of Gabriel trying to win back Andrea, because he still not able to find where Celina is. He exhaled shakily, dragging a hand down his face. "What do you want me to say?" "That you love me?" she said bitterly. "That you’re sorry? That Celina was a phase or a mistake or a misunderstanding?" He didn’t answer. "God, Gabriel…" She looked away, blinking hard. "You don’t even deny it anymore." He stood up suddenly. "I made mistakes, okay? I—I got overwhelmed, I didn’t know how to stop it once it started—" "You married her." "It wasn’t supposed to go that far!" he shouted, voice cracking. "I didn’t mean for any of this to happen the way it did!" Andrea flinched—not from fear, but from how familiar those words sounded now. He said the same thing the night she first discovered the number on his phone. He said it again when she found the hidden receipt for a ring that never reached her. "You didn’t mean to love her?" she asked quietly. And like before