“Chloe? My sister?” I whispered.
He nodded.
“It’s my baby.”
I blinked.
“Your… baby?”
Another nod.
The candle flickered.
Somewhere outside, a dog barked.
The chicken was getting cold.
The adoption brochures sat there… mocking me.
“How long?” I asked quietly.
“Hannah…”
“How. Long.”
“Six months.”
Six months.
No excuses. No explanation. Just silence.
I didn’t scream.
I didn’t throw anything.
I simply picked up my keys and walked out.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To see Chloe,” I said without turning back.
“Hannah, wait… please, we need to talk—”
But I was already gone.
