Daniel’s voice was sharp, impatient, already tired of the conversation before it began. He told me to take the bus home because he was busy. When I reminded him that I had just given birth and could barely stand, he sighed as if I were inconveniencing him on purpose. He explained, without shame, that the driver was taking his parents and sister out for hotpot because they were hungry. Before I could say another word, the call ended. Moments later, I watched his black Maybach glide past the hospital entrance. Through the tinted windows, his mother laughed, his sister held up her phone to record stories, and Daniel leaned back comfortably in his seat. None of them looked in my direction. It was as if I didn’t exist.

Holding my daughter closer, I forced myself upright and made my way to the bus stop. Each step felt like a test I hadn’t agreed to take. The ride home was slow and punishing, every bump sending a dull ache through my body. A few passengers noticed me and quietly offered their seats.