Ethan

Since Adele—Ethan’s childhood best friend—got divorced, he changed. He became distant, always hiding behind the same excuse: Adele was alone, pregnant, and needed him.

Yet you were his wife. And Alice, your daughter, still waited for her father every day.

“Love, Alice wants to go to the mall,” you said softly. “I can’t,” Ethan replied. “Adele asked me to take her to the obstetrician.” He walked away without looking back.

Days passed like that. Ethan rarely came home. Adele always came first. One night, you finally spoke.

“I’m your wife. Alice is your daughter. We need you too.” “She’s my friend,” he said coldly. “What if you were in her place?”

Your chest tightened. “So… do you want me to become like Adele?” He didn’t answer. That night, Alice’s fever worsened.

“Mommy… I want Daddy,” she whispered. You called Ethan again and again. No answer.

Until the doctor lowered his head—Alice didn’t survive. “She’s gone, Ethan,” you cried when he returned.

“You’re overreacting,” he said flatly. “It was fate.”Then he grabbed his keys. “Adele is about to give birth.” And he left—without mourning his own child.