You whispered, voice fragile as shattered glass:"Yet… you were holding her. In your room.”His face broke—Shame, desperation, fear.“It wasn’t my choice,” he choked.“My father arranged it. Her family forced it. There’s no love there, none.But you, this child, this love—means everything.”You wanted to scream, to collapse—But you stood there, breaking in his arms, Thinking of the tiny heartbeat syncing with your own.“I’ll divorce her,” he whispered, trembling. “I’ll fight them"
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