Chapter 2

Justin saw the tears on my face and wiped them away, one streak at a time.

"Violet, it hurts me too, seeing you go through this. We won't have any more children. You and our daughter are enough for me."

Then he brought out a bag I'd wanted for ages, and a bouquet he said he'd tied himself.

Something in me softened, just a little. He'd actually remembered the small ritual I'd once mentioned in passing.

But the next second, Carolyn jumped in to claim the credit.

"Violet, I picked all of this out for you myself. You know Justin's hopeless at this kind of thing. Whatever he chose on his own, you'd have hated it."

My heart skipped, hard.

The two of them tangled together in the stairwell, that smear of red on his collar, it all rose up in front of me at once.

I pulled the corner of my mouth into something like a smile, pressed everything back down, and thanked her.

Grinning, she took out a gold bracelet and slipped it onto my daughter's wrist.

"Baby, hurry and take me as your own. I'm your godmother!"

She leaned in to kiss the baby, and Justin pulled her back, annoyed.

"Can you keep some distance from her? What if you've got germs?"

Carolyn rolled her eyes at him, laughing, and settled on the edge of my bed to peel an apple for me.

"Your husband really is such a stiff. I don't know how you put up with him."

Outside, thunder cracked. A storm was coming.

The postpartum nurse Justin had hired finally showed up, late, and the two of them couldn't sit still any longer.

Justin spoke first.

"Violet, why don't I run your friend home first? There's a storm coming, it's not safe out there."

"The nurse will take care of you tonight. I'll come back in the morning."

I nodded, numb, and watched the two of them laugh and shove at each other on their way out the door, without a care in the world.

On the tracking app, they sat in the hospital's underground garage for a full forty minutes.

Beside me, my daughter had already fallen asleep, her little face all wrinkled.

The nurse was tidying away the baby's things.

"Ma'am, your husband really does put you first."

"He was so worried I wouldn't take good care of you, he made a whole slideshow, dozens of pages, laying out all your habits and the things you like."

The year we got married, I ended up in the ER in the middle of the night with acute gastroenteritis.

He was frantic, sweat all over his face, holding onto me so tightly in the hospital corridor his voice shook.

"Violet, from now on I'll handle everything for you, meals, everything. I'll never let you suffer like this again."

In all these years, I never washed a single dish, never cooked a single meal.

There was never any cilantro on the table, the thing I hated, only the flavors I liked.

In winter, when my hands and feet went cold, he'd get into bed half an hour early every night and warm it through before he let me climb in.

The day before my period he'd have all the supplies ready, set out at the most convenient spot on the bathroom counter.

Every time we went out shopping, my own bag was empty.

His was the one that always carried my thermos, my wet wipes, my blister plasters, my spare jacket.

A ringtone broke into the memory.

On the video call, Justin's clothes were soaked through.

"Honey, the storm out here is too much. Carolyn's place got flooded. I've got no choice but to bring her back to stay the night at ours."

There was a rustling on the other end, and Carolyn snatched the phone away.

"Violet, you just rest. I'll keep an eye on your husband for you at home. I promise I won't let him get up to anything."

The camera swung, and I saw it clearly: she was wearing Justin's shirt.

The collar hung slightly open, a wide stretch of skin showing, water still dripping from her hair.

I gripped the phone and said into the screen:

"If there's really no other way, why doesn't Carolyn get a hotel room downstairs?"

On the other end, Carolyn's hand paused in her hair, and she gave a careless little pout.

"No way. No way! Violet, you don't even trust me?"

"They're right online, aren't they. Have a baby and you really do start imagining all kinds of things."

The picture flickered, and she hung up the call.

The screen went black, and my worn-out face stared back at me from it.

I hesitated for a long time, then finally called Mr. Lambert.

"Mr. Lambert, that transfer you mentioned before, I'll take it. Not three months from now, I can leave next month!"

"I need you to help me find a reliable divorce lawyer. I'm taking my child and going."