Chapter 2
Andrew brushed the dust off his hands and turned to me. "Luna's afraid of the dark. This room gets plenty of light, so it's perfect for her."
I gripped the doorframe and stepped inside.
Luna was sitting where the baby's crib used to be, smoothing out her skirt.
Andrew instinctively shifted to stand in front of her. "Ivy."
I stared intently at the cabinet behind Andrew.
There was a framed ultrasound photo resting on it.
I rushed forward, snatched the frame, and hurled it to the floor.
Andrew froze in place.
Luna screamed and gripped the back of Andrew's shirt in panic.
I pointed at the door, my throat dry. "Get out. Over my dead body will I let anyone take this room."
Andrew glanced down at the broken glass scattered across the floor.
The warmth drained from his face. "You're emotionally unstable right now."
He gave me a condescending look, dismissing my anger. "Ivy, get a grip on yourself. Don't lash out at people who did nothing wrong."
*****
Dinner was takeout, the plastic containers spread across the table.
Luna pushed her rice around with a fork, her eyes reddening. "Andrew, I can't eat this."
She lifted tear-filled eyes to me. "Back when I was sick, the chicken soup Ivy made always hit the spot."
Her voice dropped low, trembling with a pleading note. "Ivy, could you make me a pot?"
My lower abdomen throbbed with sharp, scattered pain. Cold sweat slid down my spine, soaking my clothes until they clung damp and cold against my skin.
I ignored her, picked up my water glass, and headed for the bedroom.
A hand shot out and seized my wrist with crushing force.
Andrew stepped in front of me. "Luna's a patient."
His brows were furrowed deep, and his tone was full of blame. "You're usually so forgiving. Can't you stop being so mean right now?"
The warmth slowly drained from my hands and feet, leaving a bone-deep chill.
Luna hid behind him, covering her face as she sobbed. "I'm sorry, Ivy. I shouldn't have pushed you like this."
The one eye showing through her fingers was fixed on me, bright with a hidden gleam.
Andrew let go of my wrist and let out a long, heavy sigh.
He looked down at me like I was some unreasonable patient. "Ivy, I'm so disappointed in you."
I stood alone by the dining table, sharp pains stabbing through my lower abdomen.
Andrew turned, his profile cold and hard. "As for the baby's things."
His voice was flat and final. "Learn to let them go."
*****
The next morning, sunlight streamed in, so bright it was almost blinding.
I pushed the door open, bracing my sore frame. Shattered pieces of the photo frame from last night were piled at the entrance to the guest room.
Luna crouched beside the broken glass, clutching a utility knife, paper scraps scattered at her feet.
That was the ultrasound photo I hadn't managed to pick up last night.
The once-smooth black-and-white image had been slashed over a dozen times, the tiny silhouette of the baby torn to shreds.
At the sound of my footsteps, Luna's grip loosened, and the utility knife fell to the wooden floor.
She hunched her shoulders, pressing her hands tightly over her ears, staring at the broken pieces on the ground.
Andrew hurried out of the kitchen.
He didn't glance at the photos on the floor. He walked right past me and stopped in front of Luna.
He crouched down, running his hand soothingly over Luna's back, his voice soft. "Luna, why are you wandering around again?"
I stared at the mangled photo. The corner of my mouth twitched, but I made no sound.
Andrew stood up.
He stepped in front of Luna, cutting off my line of sight.
He stood ramrod straight, unmoving. "Ivy, this was only an accident caused by Luna's condition."
He spoke in that steady, emotionless, clinical voice.
Luna didn't say a word. She lowered her head and sniffled quietly.
Andrew looked down at her, his eyes indulgent.
I remembered how Andrew used to keep my ultrasound printouts in a folder, tracing the shapes with his finger, his eyes bright with joy.
Luna reached out and caught the hem of Andrew's shirt.
She looked up at his profile, her fingers tracing the fabric.
A chill ran down my spine.
Andrew turned to meet my eyes. "Luna was only looking for a paintbrush. She accidentally knocked the photos to the floor."
He sounded earnest, his tone matter-of-fact.