When Rachel’s twin sons return home from their college program and say they never want to see her again, everything she’s sacrificed comes under fire. But the truth about their father’s sudden reappearance forces Rachel to decide: protect her past or fight for her family’s future.
When I got pregnant at 17, the first thing I felt wasn’t fear. It was shame.
It wasn’t because of the babies — I already loved them before I knew their names — but because I was already learning how to shrink myself.
I was learning how to take up less space in hallways and classrooms, and how to tuck my belly behind cafeteria trays. I was learning how to smile while my body changed, and the girls around me shopped for prom dresses and kissed boys with clear skin and no plans.
A woman holding a pregnancy test | Source: Pexels
While they posted about homecoming, I was learning how to keep saltine crackers down during third period. While they worried about college applications, I was watching my ankles swell and wondering if I’d still graduate.
My world wasn’t filled with fairy lights and formal dances; it was all latex gloves, WIC forms, and ultrasounds in dimly lit exam rooms with the volume turned down low.
Evan had said he loved me.
A woman having an ultrasound | Source: Pexels
He was the typical golden boy: a varsity starter, perfect teeth, and a smile that made teachers forgive his late homework. He used to kiss my neck between classes and say that we were soulmates.
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