” I said to James. “It wasn’t relevant,” he replied. I realized I’d been manipulated into carrying his ex’s baby. Diane called me “the perfect candidate,” and Rachel wanted to keep her figure. Rage carried me through the birth. After holding the baby for a moment, I let go—of them and everything else. Later,

I told James, “We’re done.” He scoffed. I didn’t flinch. I filed for divorce, secured full custody of my kids, and made sure he felt every ounce of what he’d done. Three months later, papers signed, my lawyer smiled. “You won.” “No,” I said. “I just stopped losing.” Outside, the air felt different. My phone buzzed—James again, saying Rachel had the baby christened and they were grateful. I hit delete. And took the first step into freedom.