Chapter 4

The doctor confirmed that my baby was safe for now, but ordered me to stop taking every pill whose source I could not verify and return for close monitoring over the next several weeks.

It was seven in the evening when we left the hospital.

Ronan had not called once.

On the back of the Day 365 calendar page, he had written a promise: On the last day, I will hold your hand through every road you are afraid to walk.

But on the real last day, he was still with Blair.

The movers Maeve hired took only my clothes, identification documents, design files, and the things my mother had left me.

I did not touch the jewelry Ronan had given me. I took nothing from that house if its ownership might require an argument.

When one of the movers asked whether they should dismantle the bed in the master bedroom, I told them to leave it.

There was nothing of mine left on that bed.

Blair's perfume hidden in the nightstand, her earring by the edge of the rug, and Ronan's discarded shirt silently revealed the life they lived in my absence. They had not even waited for me to leave before moving into my place.

Maeve wanted to throw all of Blair's things outside. I stopped her.

"Leave them," I said. "I want Ronan to see exactly who he brought into our home."

The bedroom was soon empty.

I ran my fingers along the edge of the bed that had once been so familiar and remembered the first night after my accident.

I had woken in darkness and clutched Ronan's sleeve, asking if he would one day grow tired of taking care of me.

He pressed my hand to his chest and said, "As long as this heart is beating, I will never abandon you."

One year later, his heart was still beating.

It simply no longer beat for me.

I laid my white cane across the center of the dining table.

Beneath it, I placed the divorce papers, my eye report, my pregnancy report, the medication test results, and a hard drive containing the security footage.

Last, I took off my wedding ring and set it on the Day 365 page of the calendar.

As my fingertip moved over the raised marks on the back, I found the promise Ronan had pressed into the paper a year ago.

He had scraped three fingers raw making that calendar. That night, he hid the bandages beneath his cuff because he did not want me to know. Once, that small evidence of pain had been enough to make me believe he would stay beside me through the long darkness.

Now the darkness that finally made me leave was the darkness he had created himself.

Maeve waited in the doorway without rushing me.

I opened my conversation with Ronan.

His last message was still there from that morning.

Tonight, wait for me. We'll tear off the final page together.

I replied: There's no need. I already tore it off.

The message showed as read.

One minute later, he finally called.

"Ivy, I'm still at the hospital. Don't throw a tantrum over what happened today. I promise I'll deal with the medication when I get home."

In the background, Blair's amused voice drifted through the phone.

"Ronan, what should I have them write on the cake?"

He covered the receiver and told her quietly to wait.

So they had remembered to buy a cake.

They had simply forgotten who that day was supposed to belong to.

"When are you coming home?" I asked.

He seemed relieved, as if he thought I had finally decided to give in.

"Before ten. Take your medication and get some rest."

"Okay."

That was the last word I ever said to him as his wife.

I stopped sharing my location, disabled my digital key to our home, removed my SIM card, and snapped it in half.

When our car left the underground garage, midnight was two hours away.

The city lights streamed backward beyond the window. For the first time, I did not need anyone to tell me what colors they were.

Maeve took my hand.

"Any regrets?"

I covered my still-flat abdomen and shook my head.

An old device still linked to the house flashed one final smart lock alert.

At 10:07 p.m., Ronan came home.

I turned off the screen.

This time, he would be the one forced to see everything I had left behind.