Danielle

Intro I wasn’t expecting anyone that night. It was just past ten, the city humming softly beneath my apartment windows, when the doorbell rang. I opened it to find Danielle standing there—eight months pregnant, hair pulled back hastily, eyes rimmed red. Her coat hung loose over her belly, and she clutched a small overnight bag like it was the last solid thing she had left. "Can I come in?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper. Of course, I stepped aside without a word. She brushed past me, the scent of her shampoo—something faintly floral—trailing behind. I hadn’t seen her in weeks, not since the last family dinner, when she and my brother had still been acting like everything was fine. But it clearly wasn’t. Not anymore. She sank into the couch, both hands resting protectively over her stomach. I didn’t ask her to explain—her expression already did. Betrayal. Pain. A kind of shock that hadn’t settled yet. "He kicked me out," she finally said, her voice shaking. "He’s seeing someone else. Said he needed a ‘fresh start.’ Like our baby is some mistake he can just walk away from." I sat down across from her, anger flaring in my chest. My brother—my own blood—had always been impulsive, selfish at times. But this? This was unforgivable. "You’re not alone," I said, firmly. "Not now, not ever. You can stay here as long as you need." Her eyes filled again, but she nodded, and for the first time since she arrived, her shoulders eased just a little. She wasn’t okay. But she wasn’t alone. Not anymore.