I didn’t wait for him to respond. I didn’t need to hear more excuses or justifications. The conversation had only made one thing clear—there was nothing left for me in this relationship. I wasn’t going to let this child be a part of Rozen’s world—a world where I didn’t matter.
By the time I walked into the clinic, my resolve had hardened. It wasn’t an easy decision. I couldn’t keep clinging to the hope that things would change, that Rozen would suddenly become the man I needed him to be. I had to let go.
As I sat in the waiting room, my hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly. The soft hum of the air conditioning was the only sound, but my mind was loud, spinning with thoughts I couldn’t quiet. When they called my name, I stood up, my legs steady, my mind clear. I knew what I had to do.
This was the end of one chapter. And maybe, just maybe, the start of something better.
I woke up feeling like my body had been drained of everything. My limbs were heavy, my stomach ached, and my head felt foggy. The faint morning light filtered through the curtains, but it only intensified the pounding behind my eyes. I hadn’t expected to feel this empty after the abortion—physically and emotionally.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to summon the energy to move. But every part of me felt like it was weighed down. I wasn’t sure if it was just the aftereffects of the procedure or the suffocating reality of what my life had become. Either way, I couldn’t bring myself to care about anything anymore. Not even when I heard Rozen’s heavy footsteps outside the bedroom door.
The door creaked open, and he stepped inside, looking as if the world owed him something. “Chloe,” he said, his voice sharp. “Where’s breakfast?”
I didn’t even bother turning my head. Of course, that’s what he was concerned about. Not how I was feeling. Not where I’d been. Not what I had done. Just his damn breakfast.
“Chloe!” Rozen’s voice was louder now, irritated. “Did you not hear me? Where’s my breakfast?”
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to breathe through the dull ache in my chest. “I didn’t make anything.”
He scoffed, taking a step closer. “What do you mean, you didn’t make anything? You know I need to eat before I head out. You couldn’t do that one thing?”
I slowly sat up, wincing as the soreness in my body flared up again. “I wasn’t feeling well,” I muttered, keeping my eyes on the floor.