"What? Shyla?" I asked gently, my hand still cupping her cheek, my thumb brushing away the single tear that had slipped down. I kept my voice soft and steady, not letting her look away. "What did he do?"
She swallowed hard, glancing down at her bare breasts, still leaking slowly, milk trailing in thin rivulets down their full curves and dripping onto her lap. "He… he would turn away when they leaked," she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "He said it made him uncomfortable. Said it was… weird. He never touched me after I got pregnant. Never even looked at them the way you are right now."
