My mother barged into my hospital room demanding the $25,000 I’d saved for my baby’s surgery to fund my sister’s wedding. When I refused, she struck my pregnant belly—my water broke instantly. As they kept demanding money, the door burst open.

 

Then Kevin casually said, “You don’t have many expenses now that Jason’s gone. Help her out.”

I felt something inside me freeze.

“I’m saving for my baby’s surgery,” I said.

“How much?” Taylor asked sharply.

I should’ve lied.

Instead, I told the truth.

“About twenty-five thousand.”

The silence wasn’t sympathetic.

It was calculating.