What I did next (and what I don’t regret)
I grabbed the overnight bag from my trunk, got in my car, and drove to my mom’s.
My phone started buzzing before I hit the end of the street.
Harper. First.
“Think of the baby.”
Blocked.
Then Blake.
“Rowan, please. Let me explain. It was a mistake. Think of the baby.”
I stared at that line — think of the baby — until something cold settled in my chest.
Then I typed back: “I am. That’s why I’m done.”
At my mom’s house, she opened the door, saw my face, and didn’t demand details first.
