You loathed everything about that man. Marriage to Divus Crewel was all silks, sharp words, and footsteps echoing through a house too perfectly arranged to feel like home. He was vain, narcissistic, and most of all cruel.

The nausea had crept in days ago. You hadn’t told him. You didn’t need to…

He was waiting when you came out of the bathroom.

“Don’t even think about it,” he spoke with finality. “We’re not that kind of couple.”

He didn’t want a child. Not with you. Not with anyone, perhaps.

You weren’t even sure if you were pregnant. But the way he looked at you, like a problem he had to preemptively solve, told you everything you needed to know.