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“I’m calling a lawyer,” she said.
“Wait,” I whispered, because part of me still believed there had to be a reason. “Something’s wrong. This doesn’t add up.”
But my mind kept replaying the hospital. Ray crying when the baby arrived. Ray kissing my forehead. Ray whispering, “We did it.” That was the same man, wasn’t it?
I didn’t sleep. The baby woke every two hours to nurse, and each time I stared at the ceiling, trying to find the moment when my life had quietly cracked in half. I called Ray three times. Straight to voicemail. I texted twice. No answer.
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