Chapter 2
The next morning, in the recovery room.
The doctor pushed the door open. "The situation is irreversible. You'll need to come back for a follow-up."
I stared at the glaring title on the discharge papers, my hand resting flat over my stomach.
"Could you mail this to my house?"
When I left the hospital, my phone screen was lit up with a few messages from Adrian:
"Did you drop off my supplemental insurance forms at the front desk yesterday?"
"Which closet did you put my coat in?"
"Celeste is really shaken up after the accident. She's going to stay at our place for a few days."
Reading the words on the screen, I felt a numbness that bordered on the absurd.
Once I got home, I pulled out an empty cardboard box and started packing my life away.
In this space that held ten years of our marriage, I didn't touch the expensive jewelry.
From the very bottom of a drawer, I dug out a yellowed receipt—proof of the basement apartment we rented right after we got married. Next was a travel magnet with chipped paint around the edges. Finally, a frayed notebook filled with my handwritten edits for the pitch decks he used when touring to secure funding for his first company.
Looking at that handwriting, I remembered his darkest night. He had broken down in my arms, and I was the one who told him everything would be alright.
And now? He had become a man powerful enough to let Celeste lean on him, yet he treated the wife who had carried him through the mud like old furniture ready for the curb.
I tossed all three items into the empty box.
My phone buzzed. A text from Celeste: "Nora, not sure if you're still home? If it's a bad time, I can come by later to grab Adrian's meds and some clothes. Don't worry, I'll take good care of him."
I didn't reply. A few minutes later, Adrian called.
"Celeste is just trying to help," he said, the impatience in his tone unmistakable. "There's no need to make a simple thing ugly."
"Why does she have to be the one to come to our house?" I asked calmly.
"Because I'm recovering and I don't want to be surrounded by endless arguing. She gives me peace."
"And your idea of peace means I don't get to ask any questions, right?"
Silence hung on the line for a moment. Then, he said, "Nora, we both know this hasn't been a real marriage for a long time. You've just been too stubborn to admit it."
He framed my ten years of endurance as procrastination, and his betrayal as honesty.
Half an hour after he hung up, Celeste arrived.
"I didn't expect you to be packing already," she said softly. "He really can't handle too much emotion right now. I think we should both try to keep this as peaceful as possible."
Playing the rational bystander, she was demanding my quiet exit.
I ignored her and walked into the bedroom closet.
At the bottom of a storage box, my fingers brushed against the small baby blanket. The tags were still on; I had bought it in secret just last week.
And right in this very moment, Celeste's duffel bag was already sitting by the bed as she expertly pulled out Adrian's pajamas.
Looking at the soft fabric in my hands, I finally understood: this home no longer belonged to me, nor did it belong to the child who never even got the chance to be born.
I placed the baby blanket back into the box and shut the lid. Then, I zipped up my suitcase.
I dragged my luggage to the entryway just as Adrian walked through the door, supported by Celeste.
Right then, my phone rang.
It was the hospital. My finger accidentally swiped the speaker button, broadcasting the sound for a split second.
"...follow-up appointment..."
Adrian frowned and looked my way. "Are you not feeling well?"
I looked into his eyes, just about to speak.
"Adrian, it's time for your painkillers," Celeste interjected seamlessly.
His attention was instantly diverted. He took the glass, not looking at me again.
I dragged my cardboard box out the door.
As the elevator doors slowly slid shut, I heard Celeste's gentle voice slipping through the crack, reminding him to change his bandages.
I looked down and dialed my lawyer's number.