She was glowing through the months of her pregnancy, counting days and crossing them off her calendar until the day she’d meet her son. I tried ignoring that she never called him our son or our baby, or that she never once referred to him as ours. As if, in a way, she was tolerating me and this marriage only for the child. And while I attempted to let that slide, I don’t like it. I don’t like that she’s been slowly erasing me since the wedding.
Oh cry me a fucking river, dude. You literally got her knocked up on purpose.
