Two years had passed, and yet the world felt heavier than ever.
Ivy stirred in my arms, tiny fists curled against my chest, her breathing shallow and fragile as she slept. She was my reason for staying strong, for pretending everything was fine when inside I was breaking. But I couldn't pretend anymore. Not with Luke.
It had started so quietly. A cold edge to his voice, a snap at small mistakes, the way his gaze lingered too long on my exhaustion and frustration. He used to be kind. Loving. The man who had held me in the middle of the storm and told me I was safe. Now, it felt like every day was a gamble — waiting for his temper to flare, for his patience to run dry.
