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In the past few months, I've been in an internal war, debating whether to accept my condition and live the truth or pretend that nothing is happening and continue in this situation, alone and abandoned like an old piece of furniture. And now, with my baby, everything is supposed to be easier. When I talk to the father of my baby, he always uplifts me, saying that everything will work out and I should stay strong. But if I change my mind, I know where to find him. It's a pity he's poor, damn it! Why does the guy I'm completely in love with have to be poor?

I'm lying in bed in my room, feeling a bit of pain in the lower part of my belly, but I don't want to bother anyone. If the pain increases, I'll ask the maid to accompany me to the emergency room, but for now, I prefer to try and rest a bit. I feel like an obese person. I've gained so much weight, and this belly weighs a ton. Just as I'm about to fall asleep, I hear the doorbell. I don't want to be disturbed, so I turn to the corner