“Terrified.”
Then he gave me that crooked smile I loved.
And somehow, I laughed through my tears.
Before he left that night, Julian kissed my forehead.
“I need to go home and grab some things,” he said. “I’ll call you in the morning.”
He never did.
By noon the next day, my messages were still unread.
By evening, his phone went straight to voicemail.
The following morning, I drove to his apartment.
Half his closet was empty.
For weeks, I created explanations for him.
Maybe he had panicked.
Maybe something had happened.
Maybe he needed a few days.
Maybe he would come back, ashamed and apologetic.
By my fifth month of pregnancy, I stopped lying to myself.
People did not accidentally empty closets.
They did not accidentally change phone numbers.
Julian had left because he had chosen to leave.
