Chapter 4

That noon, after the brunch, I went back to the hospital without Adrian.

I had gone downstairs with one hand against the wall. Adrian was kneeling in front of Claire, guiding her through slow breaths. She clutched his wrists every time thunder shook the windows.

"I need to go to the hospital," I said.

He looked at the clock before he looked at me. "Call an ambulance."

"The roads are flooding. Drive me."

Claire made a broken sound and tightened her grip. Adrian covered her hands.

"She cannot breathe," he said. "There are people here who can help you."

"I am carrying your child."

His jaw tightened. "Do not turn this into a choice."

But it was a choice. He had already made it.

I called Mara.

She arrived in twenty minutes wearing the same green raincoat. She did not ask why my husband was not taking me. She wrapped a towel around my shoulders and led me through the storm.

At the hospital, the doctor was there. He gave me medicine and found the heartbeat again.

I cried when the rapid sound filled the room. I covered my face with both hands and breathed against my cold fingers.

"The pregnancy is still viable," the doctor said. "But the bleeding has increased. Stress is not the only cause, yet your current environment is clearly not helping. Is there somewhere else you can stay?"

For the first time, the answer came easily.

"Yes."

I called Emma from the hospital bed. My sister listened without interrupting. When I finished, she asked only one question.

"Do you want me to come get you?"

"Before sunrise."

The doctor discharged me after my bleeding slowed. Mara drove me home and waited outside with the engine running.

The house was dark except for the lamp near the guest room.

Adrian slept in a chair beside Claire's door. His head rested against the wall. A blanket covered his chest, and one hand remained close to the doorknob, ready if she called.

He had stayed there all night.

He protected her from the thunder. He protected her from her fears.

He left his pregnant wife to bleed alone.

I stepped around his shoes and went upstairs.I did not make a sound and wake him up.

My suitcase looked too small for six years of marriage.

I packed my passport, medical records, three loose dresses, and the framed photograph of my mother.

I left the jewelry Adrian had bought me.

In the nursery, tiny sample cards were still taped to the wall. He had arranged them from palest to darkest because he disliked uncertain choices.

I took none of them.

On my phone, I removed Adrian from my medical account. I turned off location sharing. Then I signed the electronic authorization allowing my lawyer to begin a legal separation.

The screen asked if I was certain.

My hand rested on my stomach. Beneath my palm, there was only warmth and silence, but I imagined the small heartbeat I had heard at the hospital.

I pressed confirm.

Emma arrived at seven. We carried the suitcase downstairs together. Adrian shifted in his chair but did not wake. Behind the guest room door, Claire murmured his name in her sleep.

I walked past Adrian one last time.

Once, I would have covered his shoulders or touched his hair. Instead, I placed the house key on the table and walked out.

Two hours later, Adrian woke and made breakfast for Claire. He warmed milk, added honey, and carried it to the kitchen.

He thought I was just throwing a childish tantrum. He thought I was waiting for his apology. He thought I would never leave him.

A few minutes later, Claire walked into the kitchen. She wore a soft sweater. She looked rested and beautiful.

Claire asked about me.

She looked up at the stairs.

"Is Olivia not down yet?" she asked.

Her voice was soft. Her eyes looked innocent.

Adrian set the cup in front of her.

"Let her sleep," Adrian said."When she comes downstairs, she can apologize for humiliating you in front of my family."

He sounded so confident.

But he was completely wrong.

By then, Emma and I had checked into the maternal care residence twenty minutes from the hospital, as the doctor recommended.

Adrian did not know I had gone to the hospital.

He did not know I had authorized our separation.

That morning, he still had not opened the master-bedroom door.

He was waiting for an apology. But I was already gone.

By the time he went upstairs to look for me, Emma was helping me unpack my medical folder at the residence.