There is this mad young boy who usually passes through my street, and whenever he sees me, he points at my pregnancy and the only thing he says is: “You are carrying a snake. Abort this pregnancy! Do not bring it into this world!!”

My name is Julia. I was twenty-four, newly married, two months pregnant, and carrying what I believed was the happiest future of my life.

On paper, everything about me looked perfect. I owned one of the biggest shopping malls in the city, and every Friday I made it a habit to walk through the building myself, checking the stores, talking to supervisors, watching the rhythm of business move like a living thing. I liked knowing that what I had built was working. I liked seeing order. Progress. Control.