His phone was recovered.
His wallet was inside.
But Alexander was nowhere to be seen.
His family told everyone he drowned.
Aimless.
No funeral.
There is no goodbye.
Only silence.
And then, three weeks later, I found out I was pregnant.
I tried to contact his family.
They refused to accept me.
My father told me that Alexander never loved me.
She said Alexander was planning to leave me anyway.
I didn’t believe him.
But I was nineteen years old.
Just.
Frightened.
And pregnant.
Eventually I gave up searching.
I gave birth to a beautiful baby.
I named him Brandon.
And they last…
