“I can’t just leave it, right? What if it’s a trap?” I muttered, my brain bouncing between fear and need.
Anne gurgled in response, tiny fingers wrapping around a loose thread on my jacket. I sighed, staring back at the stroller, the cash, and the note.
“Okay… okay, I’ll take it.” My voice wavered, the weight of the decision sinking in. “But we’re getting out of here fast.”
The next few days were a blur of disbelief.
“Can you believe this, Anne?” I held up a brand-new onesie, soft and warm, perfect for her. “No more second-hand stuff. You’re going to be so cozy.”
Anne giggled in response, waving her arms. I smiled, but deep down, I was still wrestling with it.
I called my landlord. “Yeah, rent’s covered. All of it. I’m moving, actually.”
Then, to the credit collectors. “Paid off. Yes, everything. No, you won’t be hearing from me again.”
Finally, as I stood in our new apartment—a place that actually had sunlight and didn’t smell like mildew—I whispered, “Fate, huh? Or a curse?”
The note still lingered in my mind. “Why me?”
A week had passed since I found the stroller, and life had started to settle into a strange, new normal. Anne was cooing happily in her new crib, the bills were paid, and the suffocating weight of debt had finally lifted off my chest. For the first time in months, I could breathe.
Then, the letter came.
I had been sorting through the usual stack of junk mail when I saw it. My heart sank. The envelope was thick, with no return address, and the handwriting, made my stomach churn. My fingers shook as I tore it open, already sensing that this letter would unravel everything.
The first line hit me like a punch to the gut, “I know you took the money. That was my plan.”
I froze, eyes locked on the page. She had tracked me down. How? Why? My pulse quickened as I kept reading.
“But I also know who you are, and more importantly, I know who your baby’s father is. He’s not the man you think he is. He’s much worse. I was his wife.”
“What?” I whispered, the room spinning around me. I gripped the edge of the kitchen table, my legs threatening to give out. The woman…that woman…had been married to him? The man who had destroyed my life? The same man who had denied Anne, left us with nothing, and ensured I lost my job?
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