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I heard Harper wailing.
I locked the door anyway.
I grabbed the overnight bag from my trunk, got in my car, and drove to my mom’s.
My phone started buzzing before I hit the end of the street.
Harper. Again.
Again.
Blocked.
Blake started texting.
“Rowan, please. Let me explain. It was a mistake.
Think of the baby.”
Then I typed back: “I am. That’s why I’m done.”
At my mom’s house, she opened the door, saw my face, and didn’t ask for details first.
She just pulled me in.
“I’m so sorry,” she said into my hair.
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