Chapter 1
"Sophia's in the hospital. I need to check on her," Zachary Shaw said.
I was breastfeeding.
Eighteen days after birth, Zachary stood at the door, slipping on his shoes, acting as if he were just going for groceries.
I didn't say a word.
The day of my C-section, Zachary said he was busy and didn't show up.
My mom signed the surgery consent form.
For eighteen days postpartum, Zachary never took a day off and worked until eleven every night.
When his ex-wife, Sophia Sullivan, was hospitalized, he took seven days off immediately.
"Go ahead," I said.
Zachary paused, looking a little surprised.
He likely didn't expect me to agree so easily.
*****
My name is Vanessa Lam, and I'm twenty-eight years old.
Before my baby, I thought I'd married a good man.
Zachary, 32, was a mid-level tech manager earning over one hundred thousand dollars a year.
We met on a blind date.
He had solid credentials, seemed dependable, and with my family urging me, we married three months after meeting.
Looking back now, I realize I was just too young and naive back then.
Before we married, Zachary made many promises.
"I'll handle the chores. Just be pretty for me," he'd promised.
"When you're pregnant, I'll take time off and stay with you every day.
"You're the only woman for me."
I fell for it. I believed every single word.
After we married, I realized fairy tales are a scam.
He never helped with housework.
He said the cafeteria was cheap, so he always ate out.
Paternity leave? Absolutely.
Ha, as if!
I gave birth on a Friday.
My water broke at six a.m.
I called Zachary; he was at work.
"So soon?" Zachary said. "I thought your due date was three days away."
"My water just broke," I told him.
He fell silent for a moment.
"Go to the hospital first. I'll finish here and come," he replied, his tone clipped and efficient.
I hung up and called an ambulance.
When I arrived at the hospital, my mom was waiting at the entrance.
She took a four-hour high-speed train from our hometown to be with me.
She beat my husband there easily.
"Where's Zachary?" my mom asked.
"He's on his way," I replied.
The baby was improperly positioned, so I needed a C-section.
The doctor asked, "Is family here to sign surgery consent?"
I looked at the door, but Zachary was gone.
"I'll sign," my mom said shakily.
As I was wheeled into the operating room, I saw him.
He stood at the hallway's end, talking on his phone.
"Sorry, I can't today. My wife's about to have the baby. Let's do lunch next Monday, my treat."
His voice echoed down the hall, his laughter louder.
I shut my eyes.
While giving me anesthesia, the nurse asked, "Has your husband arrived?"
"No," I replied.
"Let him stay with you when you wake," the nurse said.
I didn't say anything.
Three hours later, my baby was born.
Seven pounds, eleven ounces, a healthy, little boy.