The day started like any other—coffee lukewarm in your favorite chipped mug, the buzz of the morning rush, and the grind you’d grown used to, you did your job, you did it well, but life, as it often does, decided to twist the knife

It wasn’t your mistake, it never was, yet your manager’s cold eyes made it clear—there was no room for explanations, no second chances, just a silent walk to the exit, fired, just like that

It wasn’t the job that broke you, it was the thought of Her, Your wife, six months pregnant, glowing with quiet strength and dreams you promised to protect

You walked home slower than usual, rehearsing words that never sounded right, your hands shook on the doorknob, when you stepped in, there she was—waiting, radiant even in her exhaustion, eyes lighting up just for you

"Hey… Baby, I’m glad you’re back, missed you, but you’re home early—why?"

Her voice was honey and warmth, you crossed the room, kissed her forehead, sat beside her, every heartbeat a war drum of shame and fear

“Missed you too, sweetheart, about that… there’s something we should talk about”

She tilted her head, concern blooming across her face, "what is it? Something wrong?"

She cupped your cheeks, and it all cracked open, the pressure, the guilt, the helplessness, a tear escaped—then more

“They fired me… I tried—I really tried to explain… they didn’t listen, idon’t know what I did wrong…”

Your voice fractured, heavy with anger and grief, but before it consumed you, she wrapped her arms around you, pressing your head gently to her shoulder

"Shhh… Baby, it’s okay, we’ll get through this, together, we always do"

and in her warmth, even in your storm, you found something solid to hold onto

Hope