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Zoya stood by the window, tracing the outlines of the raindrops racing down the glass. The sky mirrored her heart heavy, looming, and filled with the weight of unspoken fears. It had been a year since Logan had walked out of her life, but the scars of their divorce remained fresh, throbbing with the reminder of loss. The world felt too loud for her; conversations buzzed around her like a persistent swarm of bees, but she remained locked in her own silence, her confidence shattered like a fragile mirror.
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Sandy, her closest friend, had taken it upon herself to bring Zoya back to life. She orchestrated outings and movie nights, filling their days with laughter, but Sandy could not cure the gnawing fear that had taken root in Zoya’s heart. The secret she bore was too heavy she was pregnant and has a baby boy who looks exactly like his father. As the weeks passed, the evidence of new life grew, yet so did her anxiety. What would Logan say if he found out? Would he demand she gave the baby to him? Would he deny the existence of the child altogether?
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Zoya's thoughts spiraled as she paced her modest living room, shadows flickering in the dim light. Pregnancy had turned into an ominous secret, one that threatened to unearth memories she desperately tried to bury. If Logan were to discover her condition, the prospect of him stepping back into her life filled her with dread. She picked up her phone and hesitated. Should she confide in Sandy about the baby? But no, she couldn't bear to add to her friend's burden.
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Late at night, insomnia became her only companion. Zoya often found herself staring at the ceiling, replaying the moments leading up to the divorce. She remembered Logan's frustration turning into rage. The way he had walked away, leaving her feeling insignificant, like a mere afterthought. Yet, she had no doubt in her mind that he rarely thought about her anymore or so she hoped.
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Days turned into weeks, and the weight of her secret grew heavier. A chilling thought crept into her mind: what if someone else discovered the truth before she told Logan? Fear, sharp and unforgiving, intertwined with her thoughts. Her phone buzzed, snapping her back to reality. It was Sandy, checking in again, as she had been doing every few days.
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“Zoya, can we meet? I feel something's off. You can talk to me,” the message read. Her heart raced at the thought of sharing her news. The fear of rejection loomed large, but Sandy's unwavering support was a lifeline, and she knew she needed to grasp onto it.
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They met at their favorite café. As they sipped their coffees, Zoya's hands trembled, and Sandy's watchful gaze made her heart race. What would she say? Could she articulate the pain, the fear, and the sliver of hope she felt?
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“Zoya, I can see something’s eating you alive. Just spill it,” Sandy urged gently.
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Taking a deep breath, Zoya finally relented. “Its about my baby, Sandy.” As the words left her lips, she felt a strange sense of relief wash over her, mixed with the torrent of worry. She watched as Sandy’s eyes widened, her reaction a blend of surprise and concern.
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“Oh, Zoya… are you okay? What are you going to do?” Sandy asked softly.
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The question hung in the air like a thick fog. “I don’t know,” Zoya admitted. “I’m scared, Sandy. If Logan finds out…” She trailed off, the implications too heavy to vocalize.
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The shadows in the corner of the café danced as Zoya’s mind raced. How could she protect herself and this child from the man who once claimed to love her? Sandy's phone buzzed, breaking Zoya's spiraling thoughts. It was a message that made her shift in her seat it was from Logan.
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“Where have you been hiding? We need to talk.”
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A chill ran down Zoya's spine at the sudden intrusion of the man she hoped to forget. What did he want? The last time she set wyes on him was at the fun fair before she relocated some place else because her baby bump was becoming more visble. The blood drained from her face as the walls of her carefully built defenses threatened to crumble. She excused herself and rushed to the restroom, her heart pounding in her ears.
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In the small, confined space, Zoya splashed water on her face, steadied her breathing, and fought back tears. She couldn’t let him control her again. She peeked through the restroom door, gathering resolve. When she returned to the table, she found Sandy scrolling through her phone, worry etched across her features.
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“Zoya, stay close to me. I don’t trust the timing of this,” Sandy said gravely. “Let’s not take any risks. You need to be careful.”
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With renewed determination, Zoya nodded, understanding that this battle was hers alone. Logan would not dictate her future. They finished their coffees, and Zoya felt a surge of relief at finally confiding in Sandy.
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Days passed, but Zoya was on high alert. Logan's message had shaken her resolve. She avoided public spaces where she might run into him, and phone calls became shorter, carried less weight. But nothing could prepare her for what she discovered one fateful afternoon.
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