Chapter 3

So when I got through to my ten-years-later self again, I didn't bother with pleasantries. "You said they had a son? I thought Rose never wanted marriage."

She gave a short, humorless laugh. "The year David and I divorced, Rose was thirty-three. That whole childfree, marriage-free philosophy of hers? It lasted all of two more years.

"Once she hit thirty-five, the biological clock started doing its work. She'd had her fun in her youth, but suddenly she was craving the warmth of a home and family. She turned around, got the marriage license with David, and had a son the very next year."

I opened my mouth but found I had no words.

A soft sound of footsteps came from the other side of the screen, and a tall, slender girl leaned into the frame.

Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and though I could still see traces of Lily's childhood face around her eyes, the quietness about her seemed to belong to someone far older than seventeen.

"Mom," she said softly, "I warmed some milk for you."

"Just put it on the table." My other self's voice had gone gentle, and then she added, "By the way, why didn't you mention the school summer camp to me?"

Lily lowered her gaze, her expression obedient and subdued. "Mom, I don't want to go. I want to stay here with you."

She slipped out of the room and pulled the door shut behind her without making a sound.

I stared at the empty doorway, a prickling heat rising behind my nose, and before I could stop myself, the tears came spilling down my face.

My counterpart gave a few quick taps on her screen, and a series of screenshots appeared before me. "Take a look for yourself."

There they were, David and Rose, holding hands with a little boy beneath a curtain of aurora borealis.

The child, wrapped in a heavy puffer coat, was perched on David's shoulders, his face split in a grin.

The caption read: "Whale-spotting with the little one. Mission accomplished. The Arctic Circle turned out to be more romantic than I expected."

The following images showed a helicopter gliding over a vast glacier, champagne glasses raised against the railing of a luxury cruise liner, and Rose in sunglasses flashing a peace sign at the camera.

"David started his own company, caught the right wave, and ended up rolling in money," she said. Her words cut deep, but they weren't wrong.

"And you? You couldn't even save your own father. Your daughter can't even bring herself to go to a summer camp because she knows you can't afford it."

She held my gaze, her voice dropping to a deliberate, measured pace. "You're the one who's taken all the hits. Why should anyone else get to enjoy what you've earned?"

She wasn't exaggerating.

David's mother had died of cancer too. Barely three years had passed from her diagnosis to her final day.

That period happened to coincide with a critical climb in David's career, so I was the one who ended up shouldering most of the care.

I was running on fumes, spending my days in the lab and my nights at the hospital.

On the evening his mother passed, I was five months pregnant, and I handled every last detail of the arrangements on my own.

By the time David rushed over, he'd already missed his chance to say goodbye.

"Claire, you have to believe me." Her voice dropped, heavy with raw emotion. "Love doesn't matter. It never did. Don't waste your time loving men. Learn to use them.

"Ten years. That's what ten years of blood and tears have bought me."

I nodded through my tears, over and over.

She held my gaze, and for a brief moment, I caught the faint gleam of relief in her eyes. She knew, this time, I'd truly heard her.

Then her image started to dissolve, the edges bleeding outward like ink spilling on wet paper, growing paler and paler until there was nothing left.

The account vanished with her, as though neither had ever existed.

But I knew, right then, that something in me had changed forever.

The divorce was coming, only not yet.