Chapter 2

When I got back to my apartment, the living room lamp was still on.

When I’d left that evening, I thought I was going to my parents’ house for Sunday dinner.

I’d even set out the heels I planned to wear to my dress fitting the next day.

They were still by the door.

I put Five Years From Now on the dining table but didn’t open it right away.

Aaron’s handwriting was still there beneath the cover.

Naomi says she’s ready for the life Clara keeps putting off.

I sat there for a long time before picking up my phone.

I opened my messages with Aaron first.

Last November, he’d come home late from a work trip. We’d just left a friend’s baby’s christening, and he said in the car that once the wedding was over, we should start “seriously planning.”

I hadn’t said no.

I’d sent him a long message instead.

I told him I wanted children.

I also wanted to know who would take time off when a child had a fever in the middle of the night. Who would handle pickups during the busiest months at work. And if I took maternity leave, whether he would call caring for our child “helping me.”

I didn’t want to rush into motherhood in a relationship where I already had to remind him to do his share at home.

Aaron had waited forty minutes before replying.

We’ll figure that out when we get there. Don’t turn every future plan into a negotiation.

I remembered reading those words and feeling tired.

The next day, he brought me my favorite coffee and took me to look at wedding venues. I’d told myself he just didn’t like talking about those things.

I kept scrolling.

Three months ago, my mother had texted to ask why I didn’t seem excited about life after the wedding.

I told her the same thing.

More directly than I had told Aaron.

I’m afraid that once I have a child, everyone will assume I’m the one who has to give up more.

My mother hadn’t answered right away.

An hour later, she wrote back.

You always make things bigger than they need to be. Once you’re actually a mother, you’ll change.

I stared at the message, my chest tightening.

That was what my father had said tonight, too.

You won’t change.

It wasn’t concern.

It wasn’t a misunderstanding.

They had already written their version of me.

In that version, I was always hesitating. Always making things difficult. Always asking Aaron to wait.

And Naomi only had to be pregnant to become the woman willing to give him a future.

My phone buzzed.

My mother.

Did you get home?

I didn’t answer.

A few seconds later, another message appeared.

Your father was harsh, but he’s scared you’ll regret this someday. Aaron didn’t mean to keep it from you. There’s no way around what’s happened now.

I looked at the screen, my thumb hovering over the keyboard.

There was no way around it.

Aaron could have chosen not to sleep with Naomi.

Naomi could have chosen not to sit at my parents’ table and wait for me to bless her baby.

My parents could have told me the first day they found out.

Every one of them had made a choice.

None of them had chosen me.

I turned my phone facedown and opened the journal.

The first few pages held travel plans, weekends after the wedding, and a joke about future baby names. Aaron had drawn a terrible little baby face and said our child would definitely inherit my temper.

I remembered laughing so hard I couldn’t finish writing.

Now, the corner of that page was creased.

Someone had gone back to it more than once.

My phone buzzed again.

Not Aaron.

Naomi had sent a voice message.

I stared at her name until I pressed play just before it expired.

Her voice was soft, rough around the edges, like she’d been crying.

“Clara, I never wanted you to be this hurt. But I thought… I thought you already knew Aaron hadn’t been happy.”