I didn’t like baby’s face. I asked for another baby. No one really cared. The baby was crying too much. I noticed that babies were not given prope... care and there was a lack of hygiene.I just couldn’t breastfeed the baby. I left the orphanage and never went back. My breasts were becoming heavy. I had to press and throw away the milk.‘Ketan, what do I do now?’ I asked my hubby next day morning when he was getting ready to go to the office.He just didn’t react.‘Why can’t you help me, Ketan?’ I. “Oh fuck...its stuffed” was all Jacob got out.“Oh Fuck you...I’m stuffed” was all I got out with some welling tears.“I’ll ring your dad Danielle...he’ll pick us up” said Steph trying to calm me down.My bff moved to the side of the country road with her mobile and was ringing my dad.I was near inconsolable. Close to blubbering. Jacob knew his sin. He tried to comfort me but didn’t know where to put his hands on the layers of satin and lace. He gave up before he started. Though I needed some. The understanding. There was the warm, uncomplicated shelter of her love. The sex too. Sex has always been important to us. Anne was like this delicately tuned instrument. A Stradivarius violin, say. Or a Bechstein piano.Just playing her took my breath away. Oh yes, I did love to play her. Did. (Have to get used to this past tense. I'll learn, don't worry.)But Anne was gorgeous in so many other ways. It was a party to simply sit with her at the end of a working day. Just discussing what. "A coupon for discount cardiac care," Phoebe suggested.Walt plowed through about half of it and declared himself "sufficientlyfull."Marcia had ordered the cantaloupe and cottage cheese. Like mother, likedaughter, Phoebe ordered the same. They both turned their heads to followa chocolate chip pancake platter covered with a peak of whipped creamthat passed by, destined for some lucky diner without an eating disorder.Walt urged them to order it for themselves."Come on. It's a special day. Treat.