My Endless Sorrow
“So you actually lost it. What a shame—it was already so far along.”
A numb, bitter smile tugged at my lips. Yes, seven and a half months.
Last night, Lucas had summoned me to the racetrack. Because of one careless remark from Vanessa, I lost count of how many laps I had ridden. All I knew was that, by the end, even breathing felt like agony.
Only when they had finally tired of their game did Lucas fasten the last button on his shirt and glance at me as he stood in the middle of the racetrack.