My son was barely six weeks old when Daniel gestured toward the door and told me that if I felt so miserable, I was free to leave and find someone better.
I stood there in our small apartment in Nakuru, holding baby Liam close to my chest, one hand carefully supporting his fragile head.
The other rested against my abdomen, still tender from the recent surgery, the pain sharp whenever I shifted even slightly. In that moment, exhaustion, disbelief, and quiet heartbreak settled in all at once. Get The Full Story Here