He kissed me goodbye at the bus stop, his hand lingering on my still-flat stomach. “Take care of our baby,” he said. I watched the bus disappear down the road, dust swirling in its wake. That was the last time I saw him. By the time my pregnancy started showing, Ethan had been gone for…
Month: November 2025
We met at the farmers market, where I was selling vegetables from my family’s small garden. He bought cucumbers he probably didn’t need just to talk to me. And I, young and desperate for something beyond the endless sameness of small-town life, fell for him immediately. For three months, we were inseparable. When I told…
When is he coming back?” “I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.” I was twenty-two when I met Ethan. He was visiting Meadow Creek from New York City, staying with his aunt for the summer, and everything about him seemed impossibly sophisticated. He wore clean clothes that smelled like expensive detergent. He had a watch that actually…
Come help me with these branches,” I said, deflecting as I always did. Leo squatted beside me, his thin arms picking up the smaller twigs. “Michael’s dad came to school today for the festival. And Sarah’s dad brought her a new backpack. And—” “I know,” I interrupted gently. “I know all the other children have…
Mama?” I looked up to find my son standing in the doorway, his small frame silhouetted against the dim interior of our home. At ten years old, Leo had his father’s eyes—dark and searching, always looking for answers I couldn’t give him. “Yes, baby?” He stepped out into the sunlight, squinting slightly. “Why don’t I have a…
For ten years, the village mocked me for a decade, calling me a harlot and my son an orphan.Then one afternoon, three sleek cars stopped in front of my tiny home. An elderly man stepped out, knelt on the ground, and whispered, “I finally found my grandson.” He was a billionaire — and my son’s grandfather. But what he showed me on his phone about my son’s “lost” father left me frozen in place
The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly on our small town of Meadow Creek, turning the dirt roads into ribbons of dust that clung to everything—clothes, skin, hope. I crouched in the yard behind our tiny rented house, gathering dried twigs for the cooking fire, my hands rough and calloused from a decade of work that never…
He examined her hands and saw a small but bleeding cut on her palm. She must have hurt herself on a piece of glass while trying to find her way to us. Still confused, my mother-in-law mumbled: — I… didn’t mean to bother you… I just couldn’t find my room… I stood there in silence….
My mother-in-law groaned softly and tried to sit up. Her face was pale, her lips dry. My husband helped her sit while I stood motionless, not knowing where to look. — What… is that? — I asked quietly. My husband looked at the sheet and turned white as chalk. — Looks like… she might have…
In the morning, I opened the door to our bedroom — and froze… On the sheets there were… To be continued in the first comment As soon as I entered, I smelled the heavy scent of alcohol mixed with perfume. The room was a mess — pillows on the floor, my mother-in-law’s dress half fallen off,…
This isn’t how I imagined our wedding night, — I whispered. — I know, I’m sorry… but she’s my mother. I nodded silently and left. I lay awake all night on the sofa, unable to close my eyes, thinking — about the wedding, about us, about how absurd everything had turned out.