It was a quiet night, one that should have been ordinary. I never imagined it would become the moment that changed everything between my husband and me.
We’d argued earlier that evening — one of those painful arguments that doesn’t end in shouting, just in silence that feels like a wall between two hearts. He had turned away, and I had turned inward, both of us too proud to bridge the gap.
By the time my brother arrived to rush me to the hospital, I could barely speak through the contractions. The pain was physical, but beneath it was something sharper — heartbreak.
