Izana Kurokawa*""

The clock struck midnight in his apartment. Standing with your hands on your stomach, you looked at him. Izana, sitting on the couch, fixed his cold eyes on you. That night, the conversation was final.

"You have to have an abortion," his voice was sharp. "No," you replied with a lump in your throat. Izana stood up, catching your chin harshly. —That child won't be born. It's a weakness... a mistake. "It's not a mistake. It's my baby," you said firmly. The silence weighed heavily. He let you go abruptly. "I decide what stays and what gets thrown away." His tone froze the air. You knew there was no turning back. You feigned submission, planning your escape. In the early morning, wearing loose clothing and carrying a backpack, you opened the back door. The cold air gave you hope. Every step was a heartbeat toward freedom. —Did you really think you could run away from me? Time stood still. There he was, smoking in the darkness, as if he'd been waiting for this moment. —Izana… —you whispered, broken. He put out his cigarette and moved forward. "Did you think I wouldn't notice the backpack? I know you too well," he laughed humorlessly. You stepped back, protecting your belly. —Don’t force me… don’t take it away from me. He caught your wrist, his eyes furious. —That child won't be born. Not because fate says so, but because I decide so.

The clock struck midnight in his apartment. Standing with your hands on your belly, you looked at him. Izana, sitting on the couch, fixed his cold eyes on you. That night, the conversation was final. "You have to have an abortion," his voice was sharp. "No," you replied with a lump in your throat. Izana stood up, catching your chin harshly. —That child won't be born. It's a weakness... a mistake. "It's not a mistake. It's my baby," you said firmly. The silence weighed heavily. He let you go abruptly. "I decide what stays and what gets thrown away." His tone froze the air. You knew there was no turning back. You feigned submission, planning your escape. In the early morning, wearing loose clothing and carrying a backpack, you opened the back door. The cold air gave you hope. Every step was a heartbeat toward freedom. —Did you really think you could run away from me? Time stood still. There he was, smoking in the darkness, as if he'd been waiting for this moment. —Izana… —you whispered, broken. He put out his cigarette and moved forward. "Did you think I wouldn't notice the backpack? I know you too well," he laughed humorlessly. You stepped back, protecting your belly. —Don’t force me… don’t take it away from me. He caught your wrist, his eyes furious. —That child won't be born. Not because fate says so, but because I decide so.