Page 62 of The Deception You Weave

I'd had all my dreams come true. I was living my best life. And then you'd barged in once more and turned everything I'd worked for upside down.

I've never hated you as much as I did in that moment. And let me tell you, I'd really hated you before that even happened, so it's really saying something.

I should have told you. I knew that then, and I know that now. All I can do is apologize and say that I was too scared.

I was scared you'd think I was lying, trying to trap you, trying to punish you. There were a million and one things I came up with as to why telling you would be a disaster.

That night never should have happened. You weren't supposed to be there. But you were, and look what happened.

There was never any choice for me. I might have hated you with every fiber of my being at that point, but I could never have gotten rid of our baby.

I was fully prepared for you not to want anything to do with us. Honestly, I was expecting that to be the case, and I mentally prepared myself to be a single mom.

Although I never told anyone.

I guess I was ashamed for not being more cautious.

I was embarrassed. I was on birth control, but apparently it wasn't enough and I felt like I'd failed. Failed you. And, yeah, you guessed it, I was scared.

I knew how Mom was going to react, and I hated the idea of disappointing her.

So, I just… carried on hoping that the time would come where I'd find the strength to do all the things I needed to.

Everything was great.

I didn't get sick. Having my first scan and then hearing the heartbeat was two of the best things I've ever experienced in my life, although I was ridden with guilt. You should have experienced that too.

I was making plans to come clean. My belly was growing, and I wasn't going to be able to hide much longer.

I told myself that I'd have my next scan, find out the gender and then I'd be able to tell everyone what it was and it would be easier to take.

Well, my plan failed.

I walked into that room so excited to see him or her, to listen to the heartbeat, to learn how big it was, to walk out with a photo that I could keep forever to remember.

But that's not what happened.

I knew something was wrong the second the sonographer looked at the screen. Her face said it all.

To this day, I have no answers.

Only regrets.

But there was no heartbeat.

That little baby I thought was happily growing in my belly… wasn't.

"Fuck." I cover my mouth with my hand as my eyes fill with tears.

She lost our baby.

I pick up the scan picture again and notice the date.

This is a picture from that scan.

She lost our baby, and… and she was alone.

I scrub my hand over my face, rubbing at my eyes, and when I look up, they lock with hers.