Chapter 2
Series 1 Chapter 2
Morning light slipped through the curtains at six.
The dinner was still untouched.
The cake remained split down the middle.
I changed my clothes and sat on the couch.
The front door unlocked.
Gavin stepped inside, exhaustion written across his face.
When he saw me, his shoulders relaxed.
His eyes moved over the cold food, the burned-out candles, then settled on me.
“I never have to worry about you.”
He came closer.
“You always understand.”
As if my silence meant last night no longer mattered.
I looked up at him.
“Gavin, yesterday was our third anniversary.”
He paused and rubbed his forehead.
“I know.”
“Noah had a panic attack. Serena couldn’t calm him down.”
His gaze fell on the gift box on the coffee table.
“What’s this?”
His fingers closed around the lid.
He lifted it slightly.
His phone chimed with a calendar reminder.
8:30 A.M. — Executive Meeting
Gavin checked the time and lowered the lid again.
“An anniversary gift?”
“I’ll open it tonight.”
After showering, Gavin stood in front of me, fastening his tie.
“I cleared my schedule this weekend.”
“We’ll go to the coast.”
He pulled up the hotel I had mentioned so many times and booked an ocean-view room.
“See?”
“I haven’t forgotten about us.”
For one weak second, I believed him.
Maybe he only felt responsible for a fatherless child.
Maybe our baby could still bring him home.
Before leaving, he kissed my forehead.
“Don’t cook tonight.”
“I’ll be home before six. We’ll celebrate properly.”
Then he added,
“I promise.”
After the door closed, I placed the gift box in the center of the dining table.
This time, he could not miss it.
Beside my laptop, an unread email waited from Whitmore Group.
Final request: reconsider your resignation.
I closed it without replying.
Three years ago, I had chosen Gavin.
I was still waiting for him to choose me.
I opened the hotel website and searched for nearby restaurants.
A few minutes later, I found myself looking at cribs.
White wood.
Small enough to fit beside our bedroom window.
I pictured Gavin opening the box.
The surprise on his face.
His arms around me.
At three that afternoon, my phone rang.
Gavin.
I answered, expecting him to say he was coming home early.
Instead, his voice was rushed.
“Elara, Noah got into a fight at school. He’s completely out of control.”
“Serena is alone at the hospital. She can’t handle him.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“But you promised—”
“I know.”
He cut me off.
“I have to go.”
Serena’s tearful voice came through the background.
“Gavin, he’s asking for you.”
“I’m coming.”
The call ended.
I never got the chance to tell him I had already felt two sharp cramps that day.
Seconds later, a message appeared.
Noah is having a meltdown.
Serena can’t handle him alone.
I have to go.
I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.
I promise.
I stared at the final two words.
Then I walked to the white roses.
One petal came away between my fingers.
Number three hundred and sixty-four.
Only one remained.
The hotel page was still open on my laptop.
Beside it was the white crib I had chosen.
I closed both tabs.
Then I opened a file I had not touched in months.
Divorce Draft.
There was only a title.
The rest of the page was blank.
I placed my hands on the keyboard.
Before I could type, a sharp pain tore through my abdomen.
I folded forward, one hand covering my stomach.
The pain eased after several seconds.
I looked down at my still-flat belly.
“It’s okay.”
“Mommy’s here.”
My phone lit up again.
His message was still on the screen.
I promise.
I closed the laptop.
I had not written the divorce papers yet.
I wanted to tell him about the baby first.
Then I would let him make one final choice.
After six o’clock, whether he came home or not, our marriage was over.