That night, my mom called.
“We know this is hard,” she said calmly. “But the baby needs a father.”
“The baby?” I whispered. “You mean Chloe’s baby? The one she made with my husband?”
“Hannah, please… don’t make this about you…”
“How is this NOT about me?”
“You need to be the bigger person. For the family.”
I hung up.
The next day, my dad called.
“You can’t let this tear the family apart.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Too late.”
“We’re trying to think about what’s best for everyone…”
“Everyone except me.”
Silence.
“That’s what I thought,” I said, and ended the call.
