The lantern's faint light sways as I make my way through the woods, the damp earth soft beneath my feet. The air is still, the night heavy with that peculiar silence you only find deep in the woods. This path is so familiar, I could walk it blindfolded—though tonight, that wouldn't be wise. Not with the thoughts racing through my head, not with everything that’s just happened.

I keep my pace steady, just brisk enough to keep the cool edge of fear at bay. My mind keeps drifting back to the house, to the finality of what I’ve done, but I push those thoughts aside. I can't afford to dwell on them right now. There’s too much at stake.

My hand instinctively rests on my stomach, and I let out a slow breath. It’s hard to believe, really. After everything that happened last time, I didn’t think I’d ever find myself in this position again—carrying a life inside me. But here I am, and I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to this child.

A year ago, when I found out I was pregnant, I felt this overwhelming sense of hope, like maybe, just maybe, things would be different. But when I told him… he just walked away. No anger, no argument—just walked away, as if I’d said something trivial. I remember the emptiness I felt then, the slow, creeping realization that he didn’t believe me, that he thought I was lying to manipulate him. It stung, but I told myself it was just his way, that he’d come around.

He didn’t.

It wasn’t until later, after some insignificant argument—God, I can’t even remember what it was about—that things took a turn. He overreacted, his anger flaring in that unpredictable way it sometimes did, and by the time the storm had passed… it was too late. I lost the baby. Our baby. He was full of apologies afterward, weighed down by guilt, but nothing he said or did could change what had happened. It was like a door had slammed shut inside me, and I knew I could never go back. Never trust him again.

So when I found out I was pregnant this time, I knew I had to do something. I couldn’t let it happen again. I couldn’t risk it.

Aeva was the only one I confided in. She’s always had this quiet way of understanding, of knowing when to speak and when to simply be there. She didn’t say much when I told her—just pressed a small bottle of laudanum into my hand, her eyes meeting mine with a kind of knowing that made me feel like I wasn’t alone. “For when you’re ready,” she said, and that was all.

I hadn’t planned to use it, but tonight, after everything that’s happened, I knew it was the only way. The only way to protect this child. The only way to ensure our future.

The woods begin to thin, the trees giving way to the open road. I can see the faint glow of the town’s lights in the distance, and I quicken my pace, the gravel crunching softly underfoot as I step out of the forest. The cool air is bracing, a reminder that I’m still here, that I’ve made it this far. I’ll keep going.

Aeva’s café is just a few blocks away. It’s late, but she’ll be there. She always is. The warmth of that place has been a small comfort to me for as long as I’ve known her, a haven where I could escape—even if only for a little while. I head toward it now, the familiarity of the route calming my racing thoughts.

When I push open the door, the bell above it jingles softly in the quiet night, and there she is. Aeva looks up, her expression softening when she sees me. There’s no surprise in her eyes, just that steady, quiet acceptance that I’ve come to rely on. She steps from behind the counter, wrapping me in a gentle hug.

“You’re here,” she says simply, and there’s a world of understanding in those two words.

“I couldn’t stay,” I whisper, my voice catching slightly. “I couldn’t risk it.”

Aeva nods, pulling back to look at me, her gaze warm and reassuring. “You did the right thing, Imogen. You’re safe now. Both of you.”

We stand there for a moment in the stillness of the café, the ticking of the clock on the wall the only sound. Aeva’s presence is grounding, a reminder that I don’t have to do this alone.

“I have to keep going,” I say, my voice steadier now. “For the baby.”

Aeva’s smile is small, but there’s a glint of pride in her eyes. “We’ll figure it out,” she says, her tone firm and reassuring. “You’re not alone, Imogen. We’ll get you where you need to go.”

I nod, feeling the tension in my shoulders begin to ease. I’m not alone. Aeva is here, and together, we’ll find a way forward. The road ahead might be uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, I don’t feel afraid of what’s to come.

As we step outside, the first light of dawn begins to creep over the horizon, casting a soft, golden glow over the town. I take a deep breath, feeling the crisp morning air fill my lungs. The lantern’s light fades as the sun begins to rise, but I don’t need it anymore. The path ahead is clear.

I am Imogen. I am free. And I will protect this child with everything I have.