I had been in a relationship with Yusuf for ten years, and on the morning we were supposed to get our marriage license, I found myself standing at the courthouse, waiting.

He never showed up.

Determined to find out why, I drove to his office where he was working. As I gently pushed the office door open, I overheard him speaking to a female student.

"I'm not planning on getting married right now. Besides, she's pregnant with my child; she won't be going anywhere."

Through the narrow opening, I watched them, lost in affection and whispers, as if they were wrapped in their own world.

Without a word, I turned away and made a call.

"Set up an appointment for me. I need to schedule an abortion."

---

Yusuf and I had been together for a decade.

We met in grad school, working side by side on experiments and searching for research topics. Later, he talked about his dream of a career in academia, but financial constraints held him back from pursuing a Ph.D.

I put my own research on hold and found a job to support his education. Back then, it was relatively easy for a graduate to land a job, and I quickly found a position in a pharmaceutical company, gradually working my way up to become a manager.

Every month, after covering essential expenses, I wired the rest of my salary to Yusuf's bank account, worried he might struggle.

I knew how demanding grad school was, and pursuing a doctorate was even more grueling.

Yusuf was constantly busy, practically living in the lab.

Concerned about his health, I would find the time to cook and deliver meals to him at the lab whenever I could.

Before this, I hardly knew how to cook an egg, but soon became adept at both household chores and cooking, becoming the quintessential girlfriend.

After five years, Yusuf completed his Ph.D. and became a university professor.

He had grown into such a refined gentleman that it was hard to recognize the awkward boy he once was.

Six months ago, he proposed to me, convinced that today was the perfect day to get married.

We were supposed to get our marriage license today, but he was nowhere to be found.

I called him countless times, but his phone was unreachable, so I drove to his university.

When I opened the office door, I distinctly heard a girl's playful voice, followed by Yusuf’s clear words:

"I'm not planning on getting married right now. Besides, she's pregnant with my child; she won't be going anywhere."

In an instant, it felt as though my entire body was gripped by ice, and even my breath seemed to halt. Trembling, I touched my belly, where a child not even two months along was growing—so early that it hadn't yet begun to move.

I clearly remember two weeks ago, when my period was late and I went to the doctor. The joy I felt upon discovering the pregnancy was immense. I had rushed home with the ultrasound scan to show Yusuf. He lifted me off the ground, laughing and shouting, "We're going to have a baby!" Then, gently setting me down, he pressed his ear against my stomach. "Let's see what you're up to in there, little one," he said, which now seems bitterly ironic.

The voice of a young woman, playful and flirtatious, interrupted my thoughts again: "Professor Murphy, what exactly is our relationship?" I heard Yusuf chuckle, "What do you think?"

Instantly, nausea rose in my throat. Was it the morning sickness, or was it their flirtatious banter? Supporting myself against the wall, I snapped a photo of them and turned to leave his office.

I called Cleo: "Set me up an appointment. I need to have an abortion."

Cleo hurriedly left work to accompany me to the hospital for the procedure. Worried that I might catch a chill, she brought a coat and gently placed it over my shoulders, her eyes red with concern. I sensed her hesitation; she wanted to ask something but feared it might upset me. I gave her a reassuring smile.

"I'm not marrying Yusuf," I said. "I refuse to let my child be the reason that ties me to him."

With someone to lean on, my tears finally came. Cleo just held me close, warming my cold hands and heart with her embrace.

The procedure was quick, and soon enough, I was wheeled out. Madelyn helped me out of the hospital and drove me home before hurrying back to work.

As I lay in bed, I picked up my phone and noticed a friend request notification. It was from a girl. Curious, I clicked on her profile. Her cover photo showed a hand entwined with another—a hand that looked all too familiar. It was Yusuf's hand, scarred on the back from the time he tried to cook for me for the first time and got burned by oil.

I remembered him back then, his eyes shining as he watched me taste his dish. I remembered him smiling softly, saying, "As long as you enjoy it, I don't mind the pain."

The girl's latest post showed a bouquet of roses with a jewelry box nestled in the center—inside was a necklace. The caption read, "One-year anniversary." So, it started even before he proposed to me. I only realized it today.

The anesthesia wore off, and a sharp pain pulsed through my lower abdomen, sweat chilling my skin.

Click.

Yusuf returned, changing his shoes as he stepped inside. Holding a bouquet of roses, he entered the bedroom and knelt by my bedside, apology written all over his face.

"Sweetie, the university suddenly gave me an assignment today, and I couldn't get away," he said. "But it's okay, we can check the calendar and find another good day."

When I still didn't respond, he assumed I was upset. "Don't be angry, sweetheart, I brought you a gift to make up for it."

He silently watched me, then handed me the roses and opened the gift box in the middle. It was a necklace—identical to the one in that girl's post.