Broken But Still Breathing

Ava never thought the sound of her own name could feel like a slap.

It wasn't the word itself - it was how it was said. The way her mother's voice cracked when she screamed it across the living room last night. The way her friends whispered it in the school hallways when her belly started to show. The way he said it - Jacob - before walking away like the past year of late-night promises meant nothing.

She stared at the ceiling of her bedroom, the early morning light filtering through the thin curtains. The room wasn't really hers anymore. It was still painted a soft lavender from when she was twelve, back when her biggest problem was picking a dress for the winter dance. Now, the room felt smaller, colder. The crib in the corner - secondhand and chipped - seemed to swallow the space whole.

Her baby stirred, a soft whimper breaking the quiet. Ava was on her feet before she even realized it. She moved on instinct now, sleep-deprived and numb. She scooped the tiny, warm bundle into her arms, her heart tightening.

"Hey, sweet girl," she whispered. Her voice trembled more than she wanted it to. "It's okay, I'm here."

The baby quieted almost instantly, snuggling into her chest. Ava exhaled slowly, fighting back the burn in her throat. She wasn't crying again. Not today.

Her mother hadn't spoken to her all morning. Last night's fight still hung in the air. The words were etched into Ava's mind, sharp and unforgiving.

"You ruined your life. You ruined ours."

Her mom didn't even look at the baby. Ava wasn't sure which hurt more - the screaming or the silence that followed.

Jacob didn't even show up to the hospital. Not a call. Not a text. Nothing. He was supposed to love her. He was supposed to stay.

Ava tightened her hold on the baby. Ellie. Her daughter's name felt like the only solid thing left in her world.

Downstairs, the sound of a car engine cut through the quiet. Her mother was leaving for work. Ava heard the front door close without a goodbye. She stared at the wall, her throat tightening again.

She wondered how a house could feel so full of people, yet so completely empty.

For a moment, the weight of everything pressed down on her - the sleepless nights, the aching loneliness, the cruel whispers, the future she wasn't even sure she could hold onto anymore. She felt like she was sinking.

Then Ellie made a small, contented sigh, and Ava felt it - that pull inside her chest. It wasn't happiness, not yet. But it was enough.

She kissed Ellie's soft forehead, her voice barely a whisper.

"It's you and me now, baby girl. We'll figure this out."

The sun climbed higher, flooding the room with light. Ava wasn't sure what came next. But she knew one thing: she wasn't giving up.

Not now. Not ever.