Chapter 1
Lucas Baird slammed the divorce papers onto the table.
"Sign it," Lucas ordered.
I touched my belly, feeling the baby give a little kick. I was eight months pregnant.
His mother, Cecilia Baird, sat nearby, cracking pistachios, the shells falling onto the floor I had just mopped.
She said, "We checked. Type O blood can't give birth to a Type B child. The Baird family will not raise a child who is not our own blood."
I flipped to the last page. It said, "Sarah Irwin shall voluntarily give up all shared marital property."
All of it.
My phone buzzed. It was a post from Alice Shelton.
She posted nine wedding photos, with the location tagged at Platinum Wedding Studio.
The caption said: [He said once the paperwork is done, he'll marry me.]
I picked up the pen and signed the divorce agreement.
The pen tip pierced through the paper.
Lucas finally let out a sigh of relief when he saw my signature.
He didn't even bother to look at my belly.
Cecilia stood up, and pistachio shells fell off her dress in a shower.
She said, "Move your things out today. The house is getting renovated next week. Alice said she wants the living room painted creamy white."
When I heard Alice's name, my fingers clenched.
Three years. This marriage lasted three years.
I didn't say a word. I just went into the bedroom and dragged out my suitcase.
When I opened the closet, Lucas's clothes took up almost all the space, leaving just a tiny corner on the right for my few old outfits.
Smack dab in the middle was a bright red dress.
It belonged to Alice. It had been hanging in my closet for at least two months.
The first time I noticed it, I asked Lucas about it.
He told me a colleague had left it in his car and just forgot about it.
I believed him.
The second time I noticed the dress, I found a movie ticket tucked in its pocket.
Two consecutive seats, dated the same weekend I was working late into the night.
That time, I didn't ask.
I shoved a handful of old clothes into my suitcase, the zipper almost refusing to close.
My belly was so huge now that just bending over left me gasping for air.
Lucas stood in the doorway, just watching me.
"Need a moving company?" he asked. His tone was as if I were just some random tenant.
"No," I said.
I lugged my suitcase out of the bedroom, through the living room, and right past Cecilia.
She didn't even look up, totally absorbed in her phone. Alice's profile picture was on the screen. She was on a call with Cecilia.
I could hear Alice's voice coming through the phone.
"Cecilia, I've picked out the sofa I want. The one for ten thousand dollars," Alice said.
It seemed they were really close already.
I stopped for a moment. Just a moment.
Then, I hauled my suitcase out the door.
In the elevator, I pulled out my phone and glanced at my bank balance. I only had 29 dollars.
Three years of marriage, and every cent I earned went straight into the family account, under Lucas's name, of course.
Now, all I had left to my name was 29 dollars.
I took a deep breath and sent a message to my friend, Ophelia Avila.
I said, "Ophelia, can you come pick me up? I'm at the north gate of Central Hospital."
Fifteen seconds later, Ophelia called me back and asked, "What happened?"
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. The baby kicked again.
Ophelia said, "Don't move. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
She showed up in eighteen minutes.
Her silver Honda Fit pulled up to the curb, and Ophelia jumped out. When she saw me standing under the streetlight, hauling my suitcase, eight months pregnant, her eyes welled up with tears.
"That asshole Lucas," Ophelia muttered.
I managed a weak smile and said, "Save the cursing. Just help me with the suitcase."
She loaded my suitcase into the trunk and helped me into the passenger seat.
We drove a couple of blocks before she finally broke the silence.
"So, it's done?" Ophelia asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"What about the baby?" Ophelia asked.
"He doesn't want the baby," I replied.
Ophelia slammed her hand on the steering wheel.
I said, "He says the baby isn't his."
Ophelia slammed on the brakes.
The car behind us honked three times.
"Bullshit! I know you wouldn't do that to him!" Ophelia snapped.
I didn't say a word. I leaned my head against the window, the streetlights flickering across my face one by one.
Even I couldn't figure out the blood type mess. Lucas was O, I was A, but the baby came out as B in the checkup.
I never cheated. Never.
But I still couldn't figure out how the baby ended up with a B blood type.
Ophelia took me back to her place, a three-bedroom apartment. The spare bedroom was already made up, the bed ready and waiting for me.
On the nightstand, there was a glass of milk and a bottle of folic acid supplements. She'd set it all up ahead of time.
"Stay as long as you need. When the baby's born, I'll help you raise them," Ophelia said, crouching down to help me take off my shoes.
I just kept staring at that glass of milk, unable to look away.
And then, my tears finally broke free.
Three years. For three long years, not a single soul ever bothered to make my bed for me.