Hours later, as I held my newborn daughter in my arms, I realized what truly mattered. Her tiny fingers wrapped around mine, and her eyes, so full of innocence and wonder, met mine. In that moment, I felt a fierce surge of love and protection sweep through me. I didn’t need Nathan to complete our family. My daughter and I were enough.

Nathan called several times, his voice a mix of faux concern and frustration. I didn’t answer. Carla informed him that both the baby and I were safe, but I didn’t want to hear his excuses or apologies. His choices had spoken louder than any words could.

The following weeks were a blur of late-night feedings, diaper changes, and the soothing lullabies I sang to my daughter. I named her Hope, a beacon of the new beginning I was determined to create for both of us. With Carla and a network of supportive friends around me, I found strength I never knew I had.