The phone rang, sharp and insistent. I answered numbly. Ivan's voice came through, cold and cutting. "Stella Abbott, how much longer are you going to drag this out?"
"Even if I can't divorce you during the pregnancy, the second that baby is born, I'll file immediately."
"Raising a kid costs money, Stella. And ever since we got married, all you've done is sit at home—eating my food, spending my money, doing a little housework and nothing else."
"No one is going to want a woman who just gave birth with a brat hanging off her. You have no income. When the time comes, you won't keep the child, you won't keep me—you'll have nothing."
Every word dripped with contempt. I listened as he reduced a year of everything I'd poured into our home to nothing—listened as he called my baby a burden—and felt something sharp carve through my chest all over again.
"Ivan." My voice was quiet. Just his name.
He went silent instantly.
"I agree to the divorce."
A beat of stunned silence. Then his tone surged with delight. "Really? Great—we'll go in five days."
He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice had softened into something almost gentle. "Stella, don't worry. I just want to take care of Glenda and her son. I won't cross any lines."
"Focus on the pregnancy. Have the baby safely. I'll come visit you and the child once a month."
"I already bought so many little outfits—I even picked out a name..."
His voice was bright, almost giddy. But my thoughts had already drifted far away.
I knew, in that moment, that I had truly let him go.
A soft chime broke the silence—a text notification. My gaze drifted down.
Dear Ms. Abbott, your abortion procedure has been scheduled for three days from now.
That night, I drifted into a fitful sleep.
I found myself standing in a frozen wasteland. The blizzard raged with terrifying force, the cold cutting straight to bone. My body went rigid, and just as I was about to collapse, a current of warmth bloomed from somewhere against my chest. A small, tender voice reached my ears.
"Mommy..."
I trembled and instinctively wrapped my arms around it.
The little orb of light was so small—I could cradle it in both hands—but it radiated a warmth so profound it nearly brought me to tears.
"I'm sorry..."
I whispered the apology, and then tiny, warm fingers gently brushed the tears from my cheeks.