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Zigart felt the weight of her decision as she stared at the stark white wall of her bathroom, a faint echo of her heartbeat ringing in her ears. She had always known she wanted to share a life with Pogacar, the thrill of their romance bright against the backdrop of his cycling career. But the pregnancy, while initially a source of joy, had spiraled into something darker—a secret she felt compelled to bear alone.
Two months into the pregnancy, Zigart had come to a painful conclusion. The world around them was already tumultuous; Pogacar was gearing up for a pivotal season. The pressure of motherhood loomed large, and she feared it would shatter the fragile balance of their lives. She had watched him chase his dreams, his dedication fierce and unwavering, and the thought of disrupting that with her own turmoil was unbearable.
As she recovered, Zigart felt the heavy cloak of secrecy settle on her shoulders. She wore a smile for Pogacar, her laughter masking the sorrow that clung to her. Each time he wrapped his arms around her, she felt a pang of guilt—a reminder of what could have been.
But it wasn’t long before the truth threatened to seep through the cracks. Pogacar, ever attuned to her moods, began to notice her withdrawn demeanor. “Are you okay?” he asked one evening, concern etched on his face. The sincerity in his voice made her heart ache.
Desperate to protect him, she deflected, crafting a facade that felt more fragile by the day. Yet, deep down, Zigart grappled with her choice—a decision that could haunt her, a shadow lurking in the corners of their love. As Pogacar prepared for the challenges ahead, the truth weighed heavily on Zigart, a burden she could no longer carry
alone.
