By the next morning, that unease had turned into dread.
I found him standing in the hallway outside the maternity ward.
He was by the window, completely still, as if frozen in time. In his hands was a small envelope that had already been opened.
Something inside me broke instantly.
My legs felt unsteady as I walked toward him.
“Where were you?” I asked, my voice barely holding together.
He didn’t respond right away.
Instead, he slowly turned to look at me.
And I saw it—not in the paper, but in his eyes. A calm, painful understanding that made my heart stop.
“You… you did a test?” I asked quietly.
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