At the dirty water dripping onto the floor.

Then I looked at my stomach.

My daughter kicked again.

A reminder.

A reason.

A future.

And suddenly I realized something.

I wasn’t angry.

Not anymore.

The anger had burned away months ago.

All that remained was clarity.

Cold.

Clear.

Peaceful.

“You poured freezing water on a pregnant woman.”

End of story — Part 3 of 3