The air inside my lungs hardened with a sharp, clinical chill, yet my reaction remained eerily composed, as though emotional shock had been replaced by a colder, more precise awareness that pain was no longer abstract but mathematically real.
Then Elise spoke again, her voice coated with unmistakable satisfaction.
“Perfect,” she said gently. “Because I am pregnant.”
I ended the call without producing even the faintest sound, my hands steady despite the violent disorientation unfolding beneath my outward calm, and I sat slowly on the edge of the bed, staring at my wedding ring as if it belonged to another woman whose innocence now seemed tragically theatrical.
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