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Ciara Mendes

My fingers hovered over the keyboard for what felt like days. I had asked Melissa for permission to finish my article at home and simply email it to her when it was complete. She granted me permission but refused to let me submit it a day late, despite my claims of being in bed with a high fever and headache. I swear, that woman was becoming more and more like Mrs. Florence with each passing day.

New tears clouded my eyes. The two people I care about hurt me deeply, and even though it's been two days, the tears won't stop, as if the wound in my heart is still very fresh. What hurts more is the thought of another woman carrying the firstborn of the man I was starting to fall for. What if I wanted to be the one to carry his first child? Although I know he isn't the biggest fan of children, he treated them well, and maybe I could have convinced him if time were on our side. Why am I even thinking about this? It's only been a month.

I can't understand wh