Chapter 2

Ethan came home at 1:17 in the morning.

By then, I had already been discharged. My younger sister, Nora, had driven me home.

Nora was three years younger than I was. After our parents died, we became each other's closest family.

She had crossed the city to reach the hospital that night without even stopping to brush her hair. She stayed through the follow-up exam, listened while the doctor explained the risk of premature labor, then helped me into her car.

The living room lights were still on when Ethan opened the door.

He saw the hospital band around my wrist and stopped.

"You were actually admitted?"

Nora shot to her feet as if she could not bear another word.

I caught her arm and shook my head.

"I texted you," I said.

"I saw." Ethan pulled off his rain-soaked coat. He did not sound frightened or even ashamed. He sounded tired, as if I had dragged up an old argument. "But Vanessa was in a lot of pain. I thought you were only getting checked."

"The baby's heart rate was abnormal. I was bleeding and having contractions. They kept me for hours."

He frowned. "All you said was that you were at the hospital. How was I supposed to know it was that serious?"

I pushed my phone across the table.

Vanessa's photograph filled the screen.

"This is the emergency you couldn't leave?"

Ethan barely glanced at it.

"She was the keynote speaker. Her shoelace broke minutes before she went onstage, and her heel was bleeding. You know how anxious she gets."

"She was backstage at a hotel surrounded by event staff, assistants, and makeup artists."

"Why do you insist on comparing two completely different situations?"

"Because on the same night, you made two choices."

He did not answer.

He poured himself a glass of water as if the conversation had already exhausted him.

"It's late. You're emotional. We'll talk tomorrow."

Nora gave a bitter laugh. "She almost collapsed on B2 tonight, Ethan."

He looked at her and lowered his voice. "This is between my wife and me."

"You were still her husband when she signed herself into emergency care," Nora said. "Where were you then?"

I would not let my sister fight my battle.

For five years, I had explained too much. Every conversation ended the same way. I was too sensitive, Vanessa was vulnerable, and poor Ethan was caught in the middle.

The following afternoon, the body shop returned my car.

But I was not the one who drove it away.

A horn sounded outside the garage. I held the railing as I walked down the steps and found Vanessa in the driver's seat.

"I'm in a rush," she called through the window, smiling at Ethan. "I have too many display cases. Can you clear the back seat?"

Ethan opened the rear door and removed several garment and equipment cases.

Then he lifted out my hospital bag and the infant car seat.

He set the car seat on the concrete floor.

The little blanket I had bought for our daughter was trapped underneath it, one corner smeared with dirt.

I had spent three days comparing safety ratings before I chose that seat. I had checked the installation angle more than a dozen times and tested the straps again and again.

Whenever I asked Ethan to learn, he said he was busy. He would figure it out once the baby came.

Now he had taken away the place where our daughter was supposed to ride home for the first time, all to make room for Vanessa's event supplies.

Vanessa looked at me with practiced innocence.

"You're not due for another three weeks, right? You probably won't need it yet."

"I'll put it back later," Ethan said.

Neither of them had asked me.

After Vanessa drove away, I crouched to pick up the blanket. The pressure low in my belly was so heavy that I had to grip the doorframe to stand again.

My phone buzzed.

Vanessa had sent another message.

"Your car drives beautifully. Ethan said you won't be using it for a while anyway. He really does think of everything."

I did not show the message to Ethan.

I went to the bedroom, opened the safe at the bottom of the closet, and removed my passport, medical records, a copy of our marriage certificate, and a full list of our shared assets.

I placed them in the document folder I had already prepared.

Then I texted Attorney Harper.

"How soon can I sign the divorce papers?"