Chapter 2

The following afternoon, Marcus's phone was still switched off. Pale and in excruciating pain, I had to call a friend to come and sign my medical consent forms.

By evening, the procedure was over. The doctor advised me to rest for a few days.

Marcus never called—not even once.

Meanwhile, Sierra continued flaunting her romance online.

"I barely twisted my ankle, and he completely panicked—rushed me to the ER like a madman."

"Ugh, he was supposed to fly back today but canceled everything just because of my stupid ankle."

"OMG! He won't even let me walk. He just carries me everywhere!"

I clicked through the photos. There was Marcus, carrying Sierra on his back.

I remembered being four months pregnant and going in for a routine checkup. My hips had suddenly locked up, making every step pure agony. The doctor diagnosed it as synovitis, recommending strict rest and heat packs. I had called Marcus, hoping he could come pick me up.

He sounded entirely impatient. "I'm busy. My time is for work, not for your little aches and pains! Being pregnant doesn't mean you get to be completely helpless. If you can't walk, figure it out yourself."

I picked up my phone and texted him again.

"I only want two things: full custody and a fair settlement."

Marcus replied almost immediately.

"I have something important to handle today."

"Stop being so dramatic. I'll come by tomorrow."

Three days later, when I was finally discharged, Marcus still hadn't shown up. Sitting in the car and watching the city blur past, the reality of it all finally hit me.

Marcus and I had met in college, fallen in love, and gotten married. During our first year, his startup failed when his partner screwed him over, leaving him drowning in debt. I worked three jobs to help dig us out of that hole, coming home exhausted every night only to cook and clean. When his second venture finally took off, I thought we had made it.

But then, a year ago, everything changed. The day he cheated with Sierra, our entire life crumbled.

Shortly after I arrived home, Marcus finally made an appearance. He spotted the surgery papers on the table and shook me awake, clearly annoyed.

"You actually went through with the surgery? Why couldn't you just wait for me?"

I hadn't slept properly in three days, and I was finally resting only to be violently jerked awake. I was utterly exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

"Marcus, are you seriously suggesting I should have waited three days with a critical medical condition until you decided to grace me with your presence?"

He paused, his tone easing just a fraction. "Fine, whatever. Now go iron my suit—I have to head back out."

It suddenly clicked. He hadn't come back to check on me or the surgery. He just needed a clean suit for work.

My phone buzzed, signaling that it was time for the baby's feeding. Weak and sore, I forced myself up to prepare a bottle.

Marcus kicked a nearby chair in frustration. "Goddamn it, I never should have married you. I regret it every single day!"

With that, he stormed out and slammed the door behind him.

I ignored his outburst, turning my attention to comforting our crying son. It took almost an hour to finally soothe him back to sleep. Once he was settled, I picked up my phone and typed a message.

"Can you refer me to a good divorce lawyer?"

The reply came quickly: "Are you serious? It's your birthday—why are you talking about divorce today?"