Chapter 2

At three in the morning, Wendy texted me.

"Betty, I'm so sorry for taking up Dr. Parker's time again in the middle of the night. Please don't be upset."

Underneath was a photo of Hadrian in the kitchen, making her oatmeal.

In six years of marriage, Hadrian had almost never cooked, because he always had too many students and too much work.

He used to say that once things settled down, he would cook for me every day.

That day never came.

What I got instead was him going to his student's apartment in the middle of the night to make her porridge.

I stared at the photo for three seconds.

Then I deleted the message I had been drafting to Hadrian.

The next morning, I booked a therapy appointment and accepted an internal interview for a transfer to my company's West Coast office.

I dragged out all eight rounds of medical records from the bottom of the cabinet. The box could barely hold them.

Hadrian pushed open the door, saw the boxes in the living room, and frowned.

"You'll need those for future follow-ups. Don't leave them lying around."

I looked at the files.

"I won't need them anymore."

That afternoon, before my pre-procedure check, I opened the passenger-side door and the first thing I saw was a thermos.

A sticky note on it read,

"Wendy. Don't skip breakfast again."

I looked at it and didn't get in.

"Take her stuff out."

"I'm not sitting next to her stuff on the way to my IVF monitoring."

Hadrian stared at me for a few seconds, then bent down and moved the thermos to the back seat. His tone had cooled noticeably.

"She just forgot it in the car. You don't need to assume the worst every time."

The air went still.

When the car pulled up outside the clinic, the receptionist saw me and gave me a professional smile.

"Hi, Mrs. Parker. Your husband's coordinator already called this morning to double-check your paperwork."

I stopped short.

"His coordinator?"

"Wendy Cole. She said she manages Dr. Parker's schedule and wanted to make sure the joint consent form for Monday was in order."

Wendy had gone around me and inserted herself directly into my treatment.

At that moment, Hadrian's phone rang.

He answered, and his expression tightened at once.

"What?"

"You're alone in the office right now?"

"Don't move. I'll be right there."

I looked at him.

"Her again?"

"Her mock defense got moved up. She needs me right now."

Hadrian had already turned to grab the car keys.

"It's just bloodwork and an ultrasound today. Go in by yourself."

"If you leave today," I said to his back, my voice low but steady, "we're done."

Hadrian turned around, disbelief all over his face.

"Betty, can you not do this right now?"

I let out a short laugh.

"Do this? You're my husband, and every time I need you, you leave. And somehow I'm the one doing this?"

I looked at him and finally said the thing I'd been swallowing for far too long.

He snapped back impatiently, "I told you, stop lumping everything together."

"No." I held his gaze. "You're the one who decided what mattered most, and I always come after her."

Before he could answer, Wendy's voice came through the phone, thick with tears.

"Hadrian... please..."

"Text me when you're done."

He threw the words over his shoulder and walked away without turning back.

I stood outside the exam room and watched him disappear.

Then I turned and walked to the front desk.

"I want to revoke all authorizations for this cycle."

The receptionist paused. "All of them?"

"All of them."

She led me into a small office and handed me a tablet.

When I signed the last electronic form, my phone buzzed.

It was Wendy.

"I'm so sorry, Betty. I took Hadrian away from you again."

I stared at the message and, oddly enough, smiled.

"Mrs. Parker?" the receptionist asked gently. "Are you all right?"

I hit submit.

"I'm fine."

As I walked out of the clinic, I opened my work email.

I formally accepted the offer from the San Diego office.