MidReal Story

The Baby Vendor

Scenario: haz una novela de 20 capitulos de una niña que se llama valeria y tiene depresion por problemas con sus padres y se sale de su casa vivir sola se enamora se embaraza y pierde su bebe y al final se vuelved a enamorar de dos gemelos pero ella no sabia que eso le costaria la vida
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haz una novela de 20 capitulos de una niña que se llama valeria y tiene depresion por problemas con sus padres y se sale de su casa vivir sola se enamora se embaraza y pierde su bebe y al final se vuelved a enamorar de dos gemelos pero ella no sabia que eso le costaria la vida

Valeria

She is a young woman struggling with depression and a troubled family history. She is resilient, independent, and vulnerable. After leaving her parents' home due to their neglect, she settles in a small apartment and begins rebuilding her life. She meets Marcus at a support group for singles, and they fall deeply in love. Tragedy strikes when she loses the baby, Marcus's child from a previous relationship, but she later discovers she is pregnant with twins. After giving birth, she dies from blood loss, leaving the twins in the care of her sisterinlaw.

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Julia

She is Marcus's sister who gives birth to twins through Valeria's womb. She is supportive, grateful, and distant. Initially unaware of Valeria's role in carrying her twins, Julia forms a bond with them quickly. She appreciates Valeria's selflessness in bringing her babies into the world. However, she struggles with guilt over the circumstances of their birth and the loss Valeria suffered.

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Marcus

He is a dedicated single father to twins Aiden and Landon. He is caring, loving, and protective. After meeting Valeria at a support group for singles, he becomes deeply in love with her. When Valeria becomes pregnant with his sister's twins, he is overjoyed at first but struggles with the loss of his previous baby girl. He remains devoted to the twins and ensures their wellbeing throughout their lives.

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I was never really the type of girl to get depressed easily.
I had seen my fair share of problems, but nothing had ever really brought me down like what happened two years ago.
I had tried to stay strong for the sake of my family, but it had all been in vain.
My parents were too caught up in their own problems to even notice that I was sinking deeper and deeper into depression.
In the end, it was the reason I left.
I couldn’t take it anymore, and I knew I had to save myself before I self-destructed completely.
Leaving my parents behind was not an easy task for me.
Even though I knew I was doing the right thing for myself, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt every time I thought about my mother and how much I was hurting her.
I had always been the type of person who put others before myself, but this time I had to put myself first.
I knew I had made the right decision when I finally settled into my small apartment.
It was a huge relief to have escaped all the drama that seemed to follow my family everywhere they went.
For the first time in my life, I felt like I could finally breathe again.
It was at this point that I realized that I needed help.
I couldn’t do this alone, so after doing some research, I found a support group for singles in my area.
The Baby Vendor
After another sleepless night in my apartment, I sit at my kitchen table, staring at my phone as the morning light filters through the thin curtains.
I scroll through my recent calls, my thumb hovering over the familiar number that has been a constant presence in my life.
My hands shake slightly as I press dial, and I count each ring until she answers.
"Hello?"
Her voice is laced with that familiar worried tone that used to suffocate me.
"Hi, Mom," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Are you okay? Are you coming home?"
She starts her usual string of questions, but I cut her off mid-sentence.
"I’m fine, Mom. But I can’t come home. Not yet."
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, I wonder if she’s still there.
The Baby Vendor
But then I hear her breathing, and I know she’s waiting for me to continue.
"I need some time to heal," I say finally, the words feeling heavy on my tongue.
"I need some space."
I wait for her response, but there’s only silence.
"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" she finally asks, her voice trembling slightly.
The Baby Vendor
"I tried, Mom, but you and Dad were always too busy fighting your own battles," I reply, my frustration seeping through.
"We never meant to ignore you," she says softly, guilt evident in her tone.
After hanging up with my mother, I sit on my threadbare couch, staring at the phone in my trembling hands.
The afternoon sun casts long shadows across my small living room, highlighting the emptiness of the space.
I scroll through old family photos on my phone - birthday parties, holiday gatherings, moments when we actually smiled together.
My finger hovers over the delete button, but I can’t bring myself to erase them.
Instead, I get up and walk to my bedroom window, watching people walk by on the street below.
The Baby Vendor
Couples holding hands, families with children, friends laughing together.
I realize that healing is a journey I must walk alone, but not in isolation.
While organizing my cramped bedroom closet, I stumble upon an old jewelry box tucked away in a forgotten corner.
As I open the lid, a faint scent of lavender wafts out, transporting me back to my childhood.
The box is filled with trinkets and memories, but one item catches my eye - a worn envelope with a faded address.
My hands tremble as I recognize my father's messy handwriting.
I carefully slide out the letter, dated fifteen years ago, addressed to my mother before they were married.
I sit cross-legged on my bedroom floor, unfolding the yellowed paper.
The first lines read: "My dearest Emily, I never thought I'd be writing to you from this place. But after last night's fight with my father, I was kicked out of the house. I'm seventeen and alone, but I can't bear to be without you."
I had never known about this fight or that my grandfather had kicked him out at such a young age.
As I read further, my throat tightens with emotion.
My father's words speak of a desperation and love that I had never witnessed between them.
The Baby Vendor
I hear a knock on my door, pulling me back to the present.
"Hey, you okay in there?" It's my neighbor, Sarah, her voice filled with concern.
"Yeah, just found something unexpected," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.
After finishing the letter, I decide to take a drive.
I head towards the outskirts of town, where my grandfather's Victorian house still stands.
It's been five years since he passed away, but the house remains untouched, a testament to his stubbornness and refusal to change.
I park across the street, gripping the steering wheel tightly as memories flood my mind.
Holiday dinners spent in that house, filled with tension and unspoken words.
My grandfather's stern face and my father's strained smiles.
I stare through the windshield at the house, its once vibrant paint now peeling and faded.
The lawn is overgrown, and the windows are covered in a thick layer of dust.
It looks abandoned, a relic of a past that refuses to be forgotten.
My eyes wander to the front porch swing, where Dad used to sit during those tense gatherings.
The Baby Vendor
It still hangs there, but now it's held by only one rusty chain.
I wonder how many storms it has weathered since he last sat there. My hands tremble as I pull out the house key from my purse - the key Mom gave me "just in case" all those years ago.
I never thought I'd use it, but here I am, standing on the cracked concrete path that leads to the front door.
Dead leaves crunch under my feet as I approach the entrance.
The wooden door looks worn and weathered, its surface bearing scars of time and neglect.
The Baby Vendor
I hesitate for a moment before inserting the key into the old lock.
My trembling hand drops the key, and it clatters against the wooden porch.
The sound inside was unmistakable - glass shattering somewhere in the depths of the house.
I bend down slowly to retrieve the key, my eyes fixed on the door's clouded window panel.
Another noise, softer this time, like footsteps on old floorboards.
I glance over my shoulder at the empty street behind me, no passing cars or pedestrians to witness my fear.
The thought of calling the police crosses my mind, but I know I'd have to explain why I'm here, at my grandfather's abandoned house.
Instead, I grip the key tighter and insert it into the lock once more.
The door creaks open, revealing a dimly lit hallway filled with dust motes dancing in the air.
"Who's there?" a voice calls out from the shadows, startling me.
"It's just me," I reply hesitantly, "I didn't know anyone else was here."
The Baby Vendor
I take a cautious step forward, my phone's flashlight beam cutting through the darkness.
The musty air fills my lungs as I sweep the light across faded wallpaper and cobweb-covered picture frames.
The voice doesn't respond, but I hear movement upstairs - the creak of old floorboards under someone's weight.
I take another step, my foot catching on a loose floorboard.
The aged wood groans beneath me, and I stumble slightly.
The Baby Vendor
As I shift my weight to steady myself, a sharp crack pierces the silence.
The floorboard splinters, and my right leg begins to sink.
Wincing, I pull myself up, using the doorframe for support.
The scrapes on my leg sting, but I manage to extract my foot from the splintered wood.
Splinters still cling to my jeans, a painful reminder of the house's state of disrepair.
I listen intently to the creaking sounds above, trying to pinpoint their source.
The beam of my phone's flashlight reveals a long hallway lined with old family portraits.
The Baby Vendor
Their faces are barely visible through layers of dust and faded paint.
My hands tremble as I move forward cautiously, my footsteps echoing off the walls.
I approach the base of the staircase, its wooden steps groaning under decades of neglect.
The footsteps upstairs have stopped, but I catch a glimpse of light moving across the second-floor landing.
I grip the banister tightly, frozen mid-step.
My phone's light catches movement at the top of the stairs, where a tall silhouette emerges from the shadows.
The beam illuminates a man's face - he looks to be in his thirties, with dark eyes that lock onto mine.
Neither of us moves or speaks for several tense seconds.
My scraped leg throbs as I maintain my precarious position on the steps, unsure whether to retreat or advance.
The Baby Vendor
When he shifts his weight, the floorboards groan overhead, and I instinctively take a step backward.