It was already closed.
“Sorry, baby.”
My voice barely worked.
I fed her.
I didn’t call Elon back.
That was the first decision I made for myself.
Two hours later, the front door opened.
“Maddie?”
I wiped under my eyes and walked into the kitchen.
Elon stood there holding grocery-store daisies and a box of chocolate.
“For my favorite girls.”
I looked at the flowers, then him.
“Thank you.”
He kissed my forehead.
“Missed you two.”
The lie came so easily that something inside me went still.
“Long day?” I asked.
“Brutal. Back-to-back meetings.”
“Did you even eat?”
“Barely.”
He loosened his tie and walked toward Sophie’s bassinet.
The moment he saw her, his face changed.
“There’s my girl.”
Sophie curled her fingers around one of his.
He smiled.
A real smile.
That hurt in a different way.
I wanted him to become simple:
Cheater, liar, bad husband.
But Sophie knew his voice. He loved making her kick her feet.
He could betray me and still love her.
I had to live with both truths.
The next evening, Elon sat on the edge of our bed while I folded Sophie’s laundry.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“About?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t rush back to work.”
I looked up.
My maternity leave was almost over.
We’d always planned for me to return.
“Why?”
“Childcare is expensive. We’re doing fine on my salary.”
“I make good money too.”
“I know. But why go back just to hand half of it to somebody else?”
“My job isn’t just a bill-paying exercise, Elon.”
“Sophie’s tiny, Maddie.”
Guilt landed exactly where he meant it to.
“I know.”
“You could stay home longer.”
Before the phone call, I might’ve heard love in that.
Now I heard something else:
Dependence.
He was planning a life without me while encouraging me to build one with fewer exits.
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
After he fell asleep, I opened my laptop.
I might’ve heard love in that.
My manager had emailed to confirm whether I was returning on schedule.
For weeks, I’d told myself I’d answer after Elon and I talked.
I typed:
“Yes, I’m still planning to return.”
