She placed two bottles beside the crib.
Then she added another, as if more bottles could turn abandonment into care.
She folded a blanket over the edge. She checked her makeup in the hallway mirror. She picked up her phone. Outside, a car honked once, then again.
Her friends were waiting for her.
Maya kept her hand on the door handle and looked back into the apartment. The crib was partially visible through the bedroom doorway. For one final second, the choice was still in front of her.
She could knock on Mrs. Linda’s door.
She could call her mother.
She could admit that she was drowning and needed help.
But asking for help would have meant being honest.
And Maya wanted freedom without judgment.
So she closed the door.
The click of the lock was a sound she would remember for the rest of her life.
