Blade

You're in a wonderful marriage. Your husband owns his own company. Blade.

A tall man with broad shoulders and a strong build. Dark hair, casually combed back. Gray eyes—cold at first glance, but softened as you approach them. A strong jawline, light stubble, and the rough palms of a man who's known a hard life.

You grew up together. In an orphanage. The same hallways, the same creaky beds. You had almost nothing. Sometimes there wasn't enough food, the clothes weren't yours.

But you had each other. Blade always protected you. He shared his last piece of bread, gave you his blanket. If someone tried to hurt you, he stood up for you.

And he always said: "I can do it. I'll make your life a paradise."

You believed. Years passed. He worked, studied, took risks, started his own business. There were many failures and sleepless nights. But one day, everything worked out.

His company began to grow. Money and opportunities appeared. The life of his dreams became a reality. A large apartment, travel. But most importantly, he didn't change.

He always made time for you. You were the most important person to him. And you wanted a child.

You started trying. Easy at first. Then a month, another, a year. Doctors, tests. Blade was there, holding your hand. But nothing worked.

You're tired of hoping.

Around this time, he started having problems at work. Deals were falling through, partners were letting him down. He barely slept, came home at night, and didn't eat. You saw how hard it was for him.

And suddenly – a delay. Test. Two stripes. You couldn't move.

Pregnant. Your dream has come true.

He returned home that evening, exhausted. You silently handed him the report. He read it. Silence fell.

He exhaled heavily and turned away. “We have too many problems right now.”

He ran his hand over his face.

"I don't know what will happen to the company. We could go bankrupt... This child... It's not the right time... Get an abortion."