The memory came back to her slowly.

Not as a dream.

Not as a blur.

But clear, sharp, and heavy.

Ivy was sitting in a car.

The engine was off.

Rain hit the windshield hard, beating again and again like it wanted to break through the glass. Her hands were shaking on the steering wheel. Her face was wet, not from the rain, but from tears she could not stop.

Her chest hurt.

Her stomach felt tight.

She was pregnant.

And she did not know what to do.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered to herself. ...