Babies weren’t supposed to be made in order to plaster over cracks in marriages, but that’s what this one would be. That’s what each one of us was, temporary plasters to cover the cracks in our parents’ dysfunctional relationship. Numb, I stared at my mother’s face as a new level of devastation washed over me. “You planned this?” Mam opened her mouth to reply, but he got there first. “We both did,” Dad snapped.
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