Chapter 1

At thirty-six weeks pregnant, I was stranded at a commuter station in the middle of a blizzard, and my husband told me to wait seventy minutes for a rideshare.

Ten minutes later, another woman sent me a photo.

In it, he stood at the reception desk of St. Anne Medical Center, holding her purse and the high heels that had rubbed her skin raw.

My phone was almost dead, and my contractions had already started.

She had gotten a blister from a new pair of shoes, and my husband had personally driven her to the hospital.

I was not so fortunate.

I had gone to my prenatal appointment alone that evening.

Derek had promised to pick me up at Fairview Station afterward, but before the appointment was even over, he sent me a text.

"An emergency meeting came up. Take the train, then get a ride from the station."

When I left the clinic, only a few stray snowflakes were drifting through downtown Chicago.

By the time the train reached Fairview in the northern suburbs, the wind had whipped the snowfall into a blizzard. Snow covered the tracks, and one of the switches had frozen.

The conductor announced that service had been suspended and told everyone to get off.

Fairview was a tiny suburban stop with a covered platform and a glass shelter. There was not even a heated waiting room.

Most of the other passengers called their families and were picked up within minutes.

Before doing anything else, I requested a rideshare.

The app searched for a driver, then gave me an estimated wait of seventy minutes.

Only then did I call Derek.

"The trains have stopped running."

"Call a rideshare."

He kept his voice low, as if he were worried about disturbing the meeting.

"I already did. The app says seventy minutes, and the station is about to close."

The line went quiet for two seconds.

I thought he might at least ask whether anyone was still there with me.

Instead, he said, "Corinne, there is a roof over your head, and the car is already on its way. Stop assuming the worst every time something goes wrong."

"Can you come get me?"

"I am in a meeting."

"You are only twenty minutes away."

I heard the impatience in his voice.

"I cannot walk out on everyone because a train stopped running. You are about to become a mother. You need to learn how to handle a small problem on your own instead of turning everything into an emergency."

Then he hung up.

Snow rattled against the metal roof as I pulled my coat closed and waited for the tightness in my abdomen to ease.

Just before my screen went dark, a new message appeared.

It was from Marissa.

Marissa was Derek's coworker.

At a company dinner, someone had called her Derek's "work wife" right in front of me.

Derek had laughed along and said it was only a joke.

But on our anniversary, he left me sitting in a restaurant until closing because she needed help revising a proposal.

At my first prenatal appointment, she claimed a client had changed the requirements at the last minute and she could not manage alone. Derek left me in the waiting room.

Last month, she called halfway through our childbirth class, and he walked out again.

Every time, he said it was only work.

Until tonight, when that same work gave him time to take Marissa to the hospital but not to pick up his wife.

The photo had been taken in the brightly lit lobby of St. Anne Medical Center.

Marissa sat in a cushioned chair with one heel lifted slightly off the floor.

A small adhesive bandage covered the skin above the back of her shoe.

Derek stood at the reception desk in the same dress shirt he had worn to work that morning.

Her purse and wool coat hung over one arm.

In his other hand, he held her high heels.

There was only one line beneath the photo.

"My new shoes rubbed my heel until it bled, and he refused to let me deal with it alone. Thank God he always comes when I need him."

I looked down at the rideshare map.

The driver's location had not moved any closer.

My train had actually been shut down by a blizzard, yet Derek thought I needed a lesson in independence.

Marissa had lost one layer of skin from her heel, and he had abandoned his supposed meeting to drive her to the medical center himself.

It was not that he could not come for me.

He had simply decided that her discomfort mattered more than my fear.

When the second contraction came, I doubled over until my forehead nearly touched my knees.

Before my phone died, I took a screenshot of the photo.

As I saved it, the rideshare app refreshed.

The driver had canceled.

The station lights flickered twice, and an employee came up the steps to make one final check before closing.

He found me bent over inside the glass shelter.

The moment he saw my stomach, he called an ambulance.

After I arrived in the emergency department at St. Anne, a nurse asked where my husband was.

I looked down at the wedding ring I had not yet removed and suddenly had no idea how to answer.

The baby was not in immediate danger, but the doctor wanted to keep me under observation for several hours.

Once I borrowed a charger, I sent Derek a message.

"I am at the hospital."

It was marked read almost immediately.

He did not reply.

I waited one quiet minute, closed our conversation, and called another number.

When my attorney answered, I did not cry or offer an explanation.

"Please prepare the divorce papers."

She was silent for a moment.

"Would you like me to contact Derek first?"

"No."

I watched the lines rise and fall across the fetal monitor and spoke softly.

"This time, do not give him another chance to make the decision for me."