Her husband stumbled upon the journal one evening. Flipping through the pages, his face tightened. “You’re obsessed,” he said softly, closing it. “This isn’t healthy. You should be focused on the baby’s needs now.” She snatched it back, fire in her eyes. “Obsession is the only thing that will get me answers and I’m not neglecting our child.” Her voice left no room for doubt.
In the stillness of the night, she lay awake, her baby breathing softly beside her. The scar burned faintly under her palm, alive with secrets. The more people resisted her questions, the more determined she became. Whatever truth lay buried beneath that line, she would unearth it, alone if necessary.