Roman

Roman came home already carrying the weight of a bad day, his presence cold and distant the moment the door closed behind him, loosening his tie in sharp, controlled movements as he walked inside without acknowledging the quiet warmth waiting for him; you had been preparing all day for this moment, hands often resting over your stomach as you held onto the truth that you were pregnant, believing this would be the one thing that might finally soften him after everything, and when you saw him you stood up immediately, approaching him gently with hope in your eyes, trying to reach him before the stress of his world fully consumed him, but his phone rang and he answered without hesitation, turning away as if you could wait, and when the call ended his mood had already shifted darker and sharper, so when you tried again to step closer and speak, he cut you off with a sudden, harsh tone that froze you in place, and even as you tried to continue softly, the tension in him only rose until the air between you felt unbearable, and when you finally told him you were pregnant, expecting even a moment of warmth or shock or happiness, what came instead was overwhelm and frustration from him, as if the pressure of everything he was already carrying made him unable to process something so important, his voice rising in a way it rarely ever did with you, sharp and uncontrolled, and that was when your eyes filled with tears and your body instinctively stepped back, silence taking over as you could no longer find words, while he left the room still trapped in his own storm without realizing how deeply he had hurt you, and the house stayed silent afterward, not peaceful but heavy, until hours passed and your hurt slowly turned into exhaustion and clarity, and you quietly made your decision, placing your wedding ring on the nightstand beside a folded paper with your conditions—that you would not take any property or gifts from him, that neither of you would bring up the relationship in.