thought my husband’s late nights were just another sacrifice we were making as new parents. Then one mistake gave me a glimpse of the life he’d been planning without me. I spent the next few days quietly reclaiming my choices before our anniversary forced the truth into the open.
The first thing that broke me wasn’t hearing another woman’s voice.
It was hearing my husband complain about the pictures I sent him of our daughter.
“She sends them all day,” Elon said through my phone. “Like I don’t have anything better to do.”
I looked down at Sophie in my arms: three months old, half asleep after her bottle.
That afternoon, I’d sent Elon three pictures: three.
“She sends them all day.”
In one, Sophie had smiled in her sleep.
I thought her father would want to see it.
A woman laughed through the speaker.
I should’ve hung up.
Instead, I stood beside Sophie’s changing table and listened.
***
