"What's the condition?" he asked.

Her voice was firm, almost nonchalant, as if she were asking about the weather. We stood facing each other, the space between us heavy and tense, filled with words yet to be spoken.

The wind brushed past, cool against my skin, but my chest felt hot, tense, and aching. My hands were clasped in front of me, my fingers twisting, my nails digging into my skin as if I needed the pain to keep me steady.

—The child we're going to have, can I be in his life for at least