I waited years for this baby. When I finally told my husband, he asked if it was too late to undo it. Then, just days later, his mother gave me a cruel condition for staying in their family. Most of my friends were already moms, sharing stories about their little ones. Meanwhile, I was running from clinic to clinic, chasing a dream doctors couldn’t promise. “Maybe yes. Maybe no,” they’d say, never giving me a clear answer. I lived inside those maybes—scared to hope too much, scared to even say

I was supposed to be gone until Friday. My business trip had been planned for three days, but it ended early. Something about budget cuts and useless meetings. Honestly, I didn’t care about the reason. When I got the news, I smiled quietly to myself. At the airport, I stood in the restroom, looking at myself in the mirror. I carefully reapplied my lipstick after a long six-hour flight, thinking, “You know what? Let’s surprise them all.” I imagined my kids, Emma and Liam, running toward me with big smiles,

Something Alive Under the Seat When Samira bought her secondhand car, she felt proud. It wasn’t just a car—it was her small, hard-earned victory. She had recently quit her busy corporate job to chase her dream of writing short stories. Money was tight, so she didn’t want to waste her savings. That’s why the used Toyota Corolla from the local dealership seemed perfect. Reliable, affordable, and hers. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was all she needed. She didn’t care who owned it before her. That part didn’t matter. The