Chapter 3

In the end, Sophia moved into my house. But she didn't stay in the guest room.

The guest room was packed with the hospital bag and the crib, and Edward said it was way too messy and dusty for someone who's sick to rest there.

So he let Sophia crash in the small room right next to the master bedroom.

That was supposed to be the nanny's room.

I asked, "Where's the nanny supposed to stay after the baby is born?"

"There's still a month left. She'll be gone by then," he said.

"The doctor said I should get admitted early."

"It's not like you're having the baby today."

Sophia stood off to the side, hugging a pillow, and said softly, "Claire, do you think I'm some kind of jinx? I already disinfected all my stuff."

Edward opened the door for her. "She is extra sensitive because she is pregnant. Don't let it bother you."

*****

That night, Sophia used my bathroom.

She said the hot water in her room was unreliable. It suddenly went cold halfway through her shower, so she had to run out wrapped in a towel.

While I was sitting in the living room folding the baby's clothes, she was wearing one of Edward's shirts.

"Claire, my clothes got soaked, so Edward grabbed one of his shirts for me. Hope you don't mind," she said.

"That's Edward's shirt," I said.

"But you two are married, right? It's basically the same as wearing yours, isn't it?"

Edward came out of the kitchen and brought her a mug of milk. "Drink this and get some rest. Don't catch a chill."

I couldn't help but stare at the cup.

It was his own special cup.

For six years, if I touched it, he'd immediately disinfect it.

Sophia took it, drank it all, and handed it right back to him.

He didn't throw it away and didn't wipe it down.

He set it on the table like it was no big deal.

"Edward," I called out.

He turned. "Yeah?"

I pointed at the cup. "Don't you need to swap it out?"

The room went quiet.

Sophia's smile faded.

Edward gripped the cup, sounding impatient. "How long are you going to keep bringing up the water thing?"

"I'm asking about your rules," I replied.

"They're my rules. Do I need your permission to change them?"

The baby kicked inside me.

I kept folding the baby clothes, not looking up. "No."

*****

I barely slept that night.

At two in the morning, I got up for some water and saw the baby's room light was still on.

Sophia was standing by the crib, wrapped up in a light blue baby blanket.

My mom had sewn that swaddle herself, stitch by stitch, for my baby to use when it was born.

When she saw me come in, she smiled and hugged the blanket tighter around herself. "This blanket is so soft. I was a little cold tonight, so I borrowed it."

I reached out to take it. "That's for the baby."

Sophia didn't let go. "I'm borrowing it for tonight. I'll have Edward clean it up tomorrow, so the baby can still use it."

"Give it to me."

We both pulled, and the fabric ripped open.

Sophia stumbled. Her elbow hit the corner of the cabinet, and her eyes welled up with tears.

Edward rushed in when he heard the noise.

He went straight to Sophia and helped her up. "Where did you hit yourself?"

"It's nothing. I shouldn't have touched Claire's things," she said.

I clutched the torn swaddle in my hands.

Edward glanced at it. "It's some old fabric. We'll get a new one tomorrow."

"This was my mom's," I said.

"It's already been used by someone else. The baby can't have it," he said.

With that, he snatched it from my hands and tossed it straight into the trash.

"Old things breed bacteria. You're pregnant. Don't keep junk around," he said.

I bent down to pick it up. But my stomach suddenly tightened, and everything went dark for a second. I grabbed the cabinet door to steady myself.

Edward finally reached out to help.

I pulled away and steadied myself.

Sophia bit her lip and asked, "Claire, are you feeling sick because of me? Maybe I should leave now."

Edward held her back. "It's raining outside. Where are you going to go with a fever?"

He turned to look at me. "Go back to your room, Claire. We'll talk when you're feeling better."

I stared at the swaddle in the trash.

Right at the rip, I could still see a [Claire] that my mom had stitched for me.

I asked softly, "What if I was the one who ruined it today?"

Edward was silent for a moment and said, "You'd never be that inconsiderate."

It turned out that being considerate meant watching someone wreck my things and smiling as if it didn't hurt.