We had no money.
But we had plans.
We were supposed to leave Chicago together.
We had everything arranged.
A cheap apartment.
Two bus tickets.
A future we thought belonged to us.
Then, the night before we were supposed to leave, Alexander called me.
His voice was strange.
He told me not to come outside.
He told me someone was watching him.
And then he said something I’ll never forget.
“If anything happens to me, don’t trust my father.”
That was the last conversation we ever had.
The next morning, Alexander was gone.
His car was found near the river.
His phone was recovered.
His wallet was inside.
But Alexander was nowhere.
His family told everyone he had drowned.
No body.
No funeral.
No goodbye.
Just silence.
And then, three weeks later, I discovered I was pregnant.
I tried to contact his family.
They refused to see me.
His father told me Alexander had never loved me.
He said Alexander had been planning to leave me anyway.
I didn’t believe him.
But I was nineteen.
