They Canceled My Vacation Behind My Back—But I Got the Last Word
After my miscarriage, the grief clung to me like a second skin. I moved through my days in a fog, quietly unraveling in the apartment Jake and I once shared. Just three days after we lost the baby, he left, mumbling something about needing space. I was left alone—heartbroken, confused, and wondering how everything fell apart so quickly.
In the middle of my haze, my sister Emily called. “You need a change of scenery,” she said. “Me, Julie, and Mom were thinking—we should take a trip together. A few days away could help you heal.” Her voice was surprisingly tender. Emily had always been competitive, Julie avoided anything emotional, and my mother—well, she rarely knew how to offer comfort. But something in Emily’s tone felt sincere, and maybe I was just desperate for something—anything—to make me feel like myself again. So I said yes.
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