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to you cry about infertility, and then leaves in the car of the man who made her pregnant.”
She put a hand over her stomach.
“Please don’t talk about the baby like that.”
I looked at her hand.
The baby was innocent. I knew that. Even in my rage, I knew that.
But innocence did not make Lydia innocent.
“I’m not blaming the child,” I said. “I’m blaming you.continue reading …
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