That night, I couldn’t sleep. Not with the anxiety dense enough to suffocate me, nor with Andrew roaming around the house like a hunter poised to strike. Each creak of the floorboards, every far-off noise, sounded like a warning. I nestled into the comfortable armchair by the window of the space he had given me, gazing out at the expansive, moonlit landscape.
His intentions troubled me like an ongoing irritation. Why at this moment? What caused Andrew to suddenly care so deeply? A man who had disappeared without a moment's hesitation after our single night together was now intent on managing every facet of my life—and my child's.
As the initial light of dawn streamed through the window, I resolved. No matter his motives, I couldn't allow him to push me around. I wasn't merely a piece he could move around as he pleased.