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I whispered, “I feel stupid.”
She held my cheeks and said, “No. They’re cruel.
That night, I finally let myself shake. Not performative. Just the body doing what it does when it’s been hit.
I filed for divorce the next week.
I also scheduled an appointment with my doctor, because stress plus pregnancy is a cocktail I do not recommend.
People keep asking if I regret doing it publicly.
If I regret “ruining the party.”
Here’s what I regret:
I regret folding tiny baby clothes while my husband texted my sister.
I regret trusting someone who could rub my belly and lie without blinking.
But the balloons?
Those black balloons told the truth in a way no one could interrupt, minimize, or spin.
Floating over his head.
In front of everyone.
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