Everything fell apart on a Thursday.
I remember it vividly.
I had made lemon chicken — his favorite. Set the table. Lit a candle. I thought maybe that night we’d talk about adoption. Look at agencies. Start planning a different kind of future.
I had even printed brochures from three adoption agencies. They sat neatly on the kitchen counter, next to a bottle of his favorite wine.
But the moment Ryan walked in… I knew something was wrong.
His mouth was tight. His hands were shoved deep into his coat pockets, like he didn’t want to touch anything — especially not me.
“Hey,” I said softly, forcing a smile. “You okay? I made your favorite.”
He looked at the table… the candles, the food, the wine.
And something in his expression broke.
“Hannah…”
“What’s wrong?” I stepped closer. “Did something happen at work?”
He stood there too long, staring at the floor.
Then finally—
“Hannah, I need to tell you something.”
My chest tightened.
“What is it? You’re scaring me.”
He swallowed hard. His hands were shaking now.
“Chloe’s pregnant.”
My stomach dropped.
At first, I thought he meant she got pregnant by someone else. Just family news.
But the way he couldn’t look at me…
