The day I discovered I was pregnant, I thought my seven-year wait was finally over.

I imagined Daniel standing beside me at the altar, slipping a ring onto my finger while our families celebrated. I imagined the two of us bringing our baby home to a house filled with laughter, arguments about baby names, and the beautiful chaos of becoming parents.

I had no idea that the same pregnancy I believed would bring us closer would become the reason Daniel disappeared from my life.

My name is Amara, and for seven years, I loved a man who made me believe that patience was the greatest proof of love.

His name was Daniel.

I met him when I was twenty-one, at a time when my dreams were simple. I wanted a stable job, a peaceful home, and a husband who would love me even when life became difficult.

Daniel seemed to be everything I had prayed for.