So… I’m using whatever strength and sanity I have left to write this.
The past few months, I’ve been silent, not because I forgot about this story or about you, but because my life quietly fell apart. During my absence, I found out I was pregnant. Yes. A teenager. Judge me if you want. I already did that to myself a thousand times. What made it even more shocking was that I have PCOS. I was told conceiving would be difficult, maybe even impossible. So when it happened, it felt unreal—like something fragile the universe accidentally handed me.
Still, despite the fear, despite the chaos, I was ready. I was ready to face the world with my baby. I never once planned on having an abortion—not only because it’s illegal here, but because I had already chosen my child. I had already loved them. I was ready to rearrange my entire life just to make space for someone I hadn’t even met yet.
But love, apparently, isn’t always enough.
The stress, my failing health, the weight of academics and life pressing down on me—it all caught up. My body was tired. My baby was barely holding on. And then… they were gone. I lost them. Losing something I never thought I could have in the first place feels cruel in a way I can’t explain. I was still learning how to protect them when I failed without even realizing it.
I’m still mourning. Every day feels heavier than the last. And as much as this book meant to me, as much as I had planned for it, I don’t think I can finish it right now. Writing requires pieces of the heart I don’t know how to reach anymore.
Thank you for the patience, for the support, for staying even when I disappeared. Maybe one day I’ll come back to this story. Maybe I’ll find my words again. But not now.
So for now—just this.
And for the last time… hopefully not forever—I love you guys.
