Chapter 3

Rex and I stayed in a cold war for three days. In those three days I called countless lawyers, and every one of them told me the same thing: if the husband won't cooperate while the wife is pregnant, a divorce petition is very hard to get through.

Holding that ultrasound printout, I finally dialed the number I'd booked before. "Hi, I'd like to cancel my appointment for the abortion."

I wanted to give myself family—one person who wouldn't find me dirty, who could hold me without a trace of hesitation.

Once I made up my mind, everything got simple. I had the lawyer draft a divorce agreement along with a custody agreement, and mailed them both to Rex's workplace.

When Rex came home that night, he acted like nothing was wrong, and I couldn't read where he stood.

"You didn't go to the office today?"

"Of course I did. I told you I had to work late. Stop being so paranoid."

"So the thing I mailed over—you didn't see it?"

"Security probably stopped it and left it at the front desk. What did you send?"

"Divorce papers."

Rex frowned, wearing that look that said I was being unreasonable again. "There's a limit to how much you can throw a fit. My germaphobia isn't something I just came down with, and I told you a long time ago not to touch my clothes. Now I'm in treatment and you want a divorce over it?"

Before I could even answer, Rex went into the study and slammed the door hard.

It was always like this. Rex refused to fight with me. He said two people spitting and shouting at each other was too filthy to look at.

The moment the study door shut, I was like a child who'd done something wrong and been locked away by the grown-ups. No matter how I cried, how I carried on, that door would never open for me.

Just then my phone lit up with a message from my best friend: "Your Mr. Don't-Touch-Me finally took you to the amusement park?"

I blinked, then replied: "What amusement park?"

She sent a screenshot. It was Rex's social media post, a grid of amusement park photos with the caption "Because love can conquer anything."

On the carousel, he sat with a woman, one behind the other. Even from the back, I recognized her at a glance—that doctor named Simone.

He'd said amusement parks were nothing but breeding grounds for germs.

He'd said who knew how many kids in split-crotch pants had sat on that carousel.

He'd said he'd never in his life go on a date at an amusement park, and if I insisted, he'd die there.

I closed my eyes and messaged her: "Do me a favor and like it for me."

She sent back a sticker with the words "Show off your love and break up fast," and a second later a voice message popped up:

"Damn, are you two messing with a single girl like me? The second I liked it, the post vanished."

That night when Rex came home, he wrapped his arms around me and kissed the back of my neck, murmuring low:

"Daph, stop this. See, the therapy's working. That doctor is just a form of treatment, that's all. Aren't you always saying I'm not affectionate enough with you?"

I thought of every time Rex and I were in bed—no kisses, no holding—when I was like an inflatable doll bent to whatever he wanted, a tool to satisfy his urges.

What I felt, what I longed for, meant nothing to him.

Now he'd learned all of this from another woman, and he'd come to humiliate me with it.

I shoved Rex away with everything I had. My throat was so jammed with emotion I couldn't force out even the word—disgusting.