At just 13, Sophia’s world shattered the night her parents discovered she was pregnant. Her father’s voice roared through the house, “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Her mother’s cold glare cut deeper than any words. “A disgrace,” Isabella hissed. “Get out of this house. You’re no daughter of mine.”
Tears streamed down Sophia’s cheeks as she begged for mercy, but her pleas met only silence. Louis pointed to the door. “Leave. And don’t ever come back.” Outside, the rain poured as curious neighbors whispered. With nowhere to go, Sophia wandered the empty streets, her small frame shaking from cold and fear.
She knocked on doors, pleading for shelter, but no one wanted “trouble.” Finally, she collapsed on a park bench, clutching her stomach—the only warmth she had left. When three men emerged from the shadows, their laughter filled the night. Terrified, Sophia ran through the rain, slipping, stumbling, but refusing to stop.
By some miracle, she escaped down a narrow alley, collapsing in exhaustion. Alone, soaked, and trembling—she whispered to the life within her, “We’ll survive… somehow.”
