For years, she couldn’t get pregnant. Doctors’ appointments. Hormone shots. Tears she tried to hide. He never came with her—always “busy,” always “working.” She took on two jobs, saved every dollar, and paid for IVF herself. Every cent.
And then, against all odds, the miracle happened.
Triplets.
She called me sobbing, laughing, barely able to breathe. Three tiny heartbeats. Three lives. Three dreams all at once.
He panicked.
Suddenly, the man who once talked about “someday” said three kids weren’t part of his plan. That he wasn’t ready. That he wanted to live his life.
Two weeks before her due date, he packed his things and left.
I didn’t chase him.
I stayed with my sister.
