The dimming sun mirrors my crumbling world, casting shadows where light once flourished. Footsteps echo through the silence, and I spin around, my voice catching. He enters, shedding his coat with deliberate calm. "Don't push this," he says, his tone final. "You'll have what you want soon enough." My heart races. "We can't do this." He pauses, studying me with an expression carved from ice. "Can't? For weeks you've demanded nothing but divorce papers. They're coming in days. So what exactly can't we do?" The words escape before I can stop them, raw and desperate. "I'm pregnant." His face drains of color as he steps forward, shock rippling through him. "I'm pregnant," I repeat, each syllable a hammer blow. Then everything fades to black.