And every day she had spent believing the worst of me, I had spent believing she simply hadn’t wanted me.

Two people grieving the exact same loss on opposite sides of a wall that neither of us had built and neither of us could see.

“I have the call logs on my phone,” she whispered.

“After that text, I stopped.

I thought you knew about the baby and had decided you wanted nothing to do with either of us.

So I sent one last message in May, and then I let you go.”

Chapter 11 — The Audit