Chapter 1
The night I hemorrhaged during my premature delivery and the hospital declared me critical, Edward Bennett didn't show up to sign the transfer consent form.
When I woke up in the ICU, I knew our marriage was over.
The day I was discharged, I handed him the divorce agreement I'd prepared.
He was painting the baby's crib. When he heard me, he turned around, stunned, his eyes were filled with exhaustion and resignation.
He said, "Two days ago, Stella's guide dog, who'd been with her for eight years, died in a car accident. You know she's severely depressed, the dog was her only emotional support. I couldn't stand by and watch her hurt herself.
"Yesterday, she broke down and tried to slit her wrists. I had to rush her to the ER, so I missed your call.
"Today, she insisted on holding a funeral for the dog, right by the cliff. I was afraid she'd jump, so I had to keep an eye on her the whole time.
"I know you're bothered by her being around, but I swear on my life, I only see her as a little sister. Nothing ever crossed the line between us.
"As for you going to the hospital in pain, I thought it was normal false contractions. I checked with the doctor, your due date was still two weeks away. I've explained everything. You had the baby, so please don't say things like that."
I looked at him calmly.
Those days, he was running himself ragged over Stella's dog, staying up all night until his eyes were bloodshot.
He had no idea I was lying there in a pool of my own blood, with our baby almost suffocating inside me.
I nodded. "I've already signed it."
"Laurie, stop it," Edward said.
Edward looked down, not even reaching for the divorce papers.
He casually set the paintbrush down on the paint tray.
He grabbed a wet wipe and leisurely cleaned his slender fingers.
As he drew closer, a faint scent of fir enveloped me.
He folded the two flimsy sheets and slipped them into the pocket of my oversized hospital gown.
His warm fingertips brushed against my forehead, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind my ear.
Edward said, "I know post-partum hormones can make your emotions run wild, but making a joke out of our marriage isn't funny at all."
His tone was as doting as ever, with a hint of helplessness.
It was as if, in his eyes, I was a little girl throwing a tantrum for attention.
I turned my head away, dodging his hand with its sharp, defined knuckles.
That same old act, masking his coldness as if he were being understanding.
It used to make me doubt myself and blame myself over and over.
Now, it made me feel physically sick, like my stomach was turning inside out.
Seeing my resistance, Edward sighed quietly.
He didn't press me. Instead, he turned and walked over to the kitchen island.
"It's almost time for the baby's formula. I'll go get it ready," Edward said.
He picked up the thermometer and checked the temperature of the water in the kettle.
As he was tearing open the formula packet, his phone on the marble countertop started vibrating.
The screen lit up with the name [Stel.]
Edward froze mid-motion.
He picked up the call right in front of me, making no effort to hide it.
Stella's voice was barely audible, choked with sobs, like she could hardly breathe.
"Edward, it's so windy outside. The wind's really strong," Stella said.