“Maybe I don’t want a baby anymore. Not if it means losing you along the way. Because, fuck, Cara, that’s what this feels like. Watching this wreak havoc on you, watching it fucking … kill you. Jesus, it feels like I’m watching every part of you slowly die, and I have to stand by and do nothing, because I don’t know how to fucking fix this.” I clutch my chest, my heart. If it would fix things, I’d tear it out myself. Offer it to Cara on a silver platter. “I don’t know how to do this anymore,” I admit on a desperate, broken plea. “I don’t, Cara. It’s killing you, and it’s fucking destroying
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