Chapter 3

I picked a weekend to go home.

My mom called ahead. She said she'd made ribs and wanted me to bring Leo with me.

I told her he was busy and that I'd come alone.

She didn't like that. "He's always busy. You've been married three years. How many times has he even come over?"

I didn't say anything.

"Fine. Just come by yourself. Come early. The food's ready," she said, then hung up.

I hung up and stood in front of the mirror, changing my clothes.

A few of Leo's shirts hung in the closet. I reached out and touched them. The fabric felt soft under my fingers.

My phone buzzed.

Vita posted an update.

There were nine photos—the beach, a candlelit dinner, and roses.

The last photo showed a man's hand holding hers. On his ring finger was our wedding ring.

The caption read: [Happy 3rd Anniversary.]

Today was our third anniversary.

I stared at that photo for ten seconds, then put my phone away, got dressed, and walked out the door.

My mom's place was on the west side of the city, about an hour by subway.

When I walked in, I stopped in my tracks.

Leo was sitting on the couch, with a bouquet of flowers and a cake in front of him.

My mom stood beside him, smiling. When she saw me, she hurried over. "Diana, you're back. Look at Leo. He's so thoughtful. He said it's your anniversary, so he brought flowers and a cake to celebrate with you."

I stood at the door, just staring at him.

He got up, walked over, and reached out to hug me.

I stepped back.

His hand hung awkwardly in the air, but the smile stayed on his face. "Diana, what's wrong? Are you still mad at me? I told you. It was a last-minute trip. I didn't want you to worry, so I kept it from you."

My mom jumped in right away. "That's right. Men are like that. Work comes up, and they can't help it. Leo was just trying to be good to you. He didn't want you to worry."

I stared at him.

He looked thinner. There were dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn't been sleeping well.

And those eyes, when they met mine, were still gentle.

He stepped closer again. "Diana, I know I was wrong. From now on, wherever I go, I'll tell you. Please don't ignore me."

"Alright, alright," my mom said behind us. "Let's eat first. You two can talk after dinner."

At the table, my mom kept putting food on Leo's plate. "Leo, eat more. You've lost weight."

"Thanks," he said, smiling.

"Diana, you too. Eat more," she said.

I kept my head down, quietly eating, bite after bite.

Halfway through the meal, my mom suddenly said, "Oh, right, Diana. When are you two going to have a baby? I can't wait to be a grandma."

Leo smiled at me. "That's up to Diana."

I looked up at him.

He looked back at me, his eyes holding the same gentle look as the day he proposed three years ago.

I swallowed my food and said, "Soon."

He paused for a moment, caught off guard.

My mom lit up. "That's good. You should hurry. I'm still young enough to help with the baby."

After dinner, Leo went to the kitchen to do the dishes.

My mom pulled me down onto the couch. She lowered her voice. "Diana, are you two fighting?"

"No," I replied.

"I can tell you're hiding something. Leo is a good man. He treats you well. Don't make things hard for him all the time. Men can be careless. You have to be more patient," she said.

I looked at her. She was sixty now. Half her hair had turned white. The lines at the corners of her eyes were deep, carved there by years of worry.

"Mom, I'm fine," I said.

She looked like she wanted to say more, but Leo came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands. "Diana, should we head home? My car's downstairs."

I stood up and grabbed my bag.

My mom followed us to the door. "Diana, come back next week, okay? I'll cook something nice."

"Okay," I said, nodding.

On the way downstairs, Leo walked next to me, reaching for my hand.

I slipped my hands into my pockets.

He let out a quiet sigh. "Diana, what's going on with you? Is this just because you couldn't reach me on the phone? I already explained. The signal was bad those few days—"

I stopped in my tracks and stared at him.

"Did you really go up the mountain?" I asked.

He froze for a split second, then answered quickly, "I did. We had all the gear. The day of the avalanche, we were on the sheltered side, so we weren't buried. Later, we took a different route down."

"Where exactly were you when the avalanche happened?" I pressed.

"At Camp C, and we left after."

I nodded lightly and kept going.

"Diana." He caught up and grabbed my arm.

I looked down at his hand. It was clean and smooth with no marks from frostbite.

"What happened to your hand?" I asked.

He glanced at it and smiled. "Nothing. Why?"

"You were in the mountains for seven days and didn't get frostbite, huh?"

His smile stiffened for a second. "I protected myself. My gloves were thick."

I looked at him, and he met my gaze.

"Come on," I said. "Let's go home."

*****

That night, he lay beside me. In the middle of the night, his phone buzzed.

He glanced at it and muted it.

It buzzed again. He muted it again.

The third time, he quietly sat up, took his phone, and went into the bathroom.

I lay there with my eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

The bathroom door was closed. His voice came through the door, low and muffled. I couldn't make out a word.

Ten minutes later, he came out and lay back down beside me.

I kept my back to him, not moving.

"Diana?" he called out softly.

I didn't answer.

After a while, his breathing grew slow and steady.

When morning came, he answered a call, keeping his voice low. "Yeah, got it. I'll be there this afternoon."

After hanging up, he turned to look at me.

I kept my eyes closed.

He quietly got up, freshened up, got dressed, and headed out.

The door clicked shut. I opened my eyes and sat up.

There was a message on my phone from an account I didn't recognize.

[Do you know why he could go to your place yesterday? Because I let him. I told him it was your anniversary and he should be with you. He kissed me and said thank you.]

There was a photo attached. Leo was asleep in a bed, shirtless.

The timestamp was 3 a.m. this morning.

I set my phone down and went to the bathroom to wash my face.

I looked in the mirror—my face was pale, my eyes swollen.

I turned on the faucet and buried my face in the cold water.

I held my breath for thirty seconds, then finally lifted my head.

My phone buzzed again.

It was the hospital, reminding me about my prenatal checkup.

I had forgotten that I was still pregnant.