A month after the unilateral declaration of breakup.

The man belatedly asks for a reason.

“Tell me what you want.”

The blind dates he confidently went on while still involved with her.

She didn’t want to speak of the misery it caused her.

So she chose to break up. Before she lost herself even more.

And then, like a price for that choice, came a new life.

“It’s not your concern.”

“Then prove it’s not my child.

If you can’t, I think I have every right to speak.”

The expression with which he claimed his rights was eerily calm.

As if he had been waiting for this very moment.

Is this child our hope?

Or a despair erased by responsibility?

A melodrama of love and hate searching for the period at the end of this conclusion.

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