Chapter 3

NORA

The doctor stepped out of the room and left me in silence. I sat on the edge of the exam table. My shoes were still damp from the walk in the rain, and the weight of the wedding ring on my finger felt like it was pulling my whole arm down.

Without even thinking, I moved my hand to my stomach. I rested my palm there, flat against the hospital gown.

 Eight weeks ago, Charlie put his hand on my face and I let myself believe it.

 Eight weeks ago, I was still his wife. Tonight, I was sitting in a hospital room eight weeks pregnant with his child.

I looked down at the items in my lap. I had the envelope from Helena. The velvet pouch was with Daniel in the corridor. I had the ring on my finger and the cash from Charlie in my coat pocket. 

The papers I just signed were already tucked away in a lawyer’s briefcase. It hit me then that every object I owned tonight was given to me by someone else. I had nothing of my own. Nothing except the child.

I closed my eyes. Memories started to flood in. 

Our families had been neighbors since I was three. I was six years old when I started loving Charlie Sinclair. I have spent twenty years trying to remember what that felt like, before the world taught me what it would cost.

My mother died when I was eight. The doctors said it was her heart. Six months later, my father married the woman who had been bringing us soup. She brought her daughter, Celeste, who was six years old.

I did not yet know what Helena had meant. I would have years to wonder.

I moved my thumb over the scar on my left wrist. It still itches. It has been itching for sixteen years.

Three years ago, the night before everything fell apart, I went to the club where Charlie drank. I found him in the VIP section and told him I had loved him since we were children. 

I told him he had once promised to love me back. He laughed. It was not a cruel laugh. It was almost kind, which made it worse. 

"Don't be delusional, Nora," he said. "The one I love is Celeste." 

I told him I was going to make him see what he had missed. I left the club without showing him what I had come to show him. I thought words would be enough to reach him. I will spend the rest of my life trying to understand why I believed that.

The next afternoon, I faced Celeste in the upstairs hallway. I told her I had evidence. I told her to confess to Charlie or I would. 

She laughed at me. She followed me down the hallway. She grabbed my arm at the top of the stairs and told me I wouldn't dare.

I pulled my arm away. She swung at me. She lost her footing and fell. I reached for her, but I missed it.

Celeste woke up in the hospital and said three words. 

"She pushed me."

 The doctors said her spine was severed. I was twenty years old.

Two weeks later, Celeste disappeared from the hospital. She left a note for Charlie. I was never told what it said.

Three weeks later, Charlie came to our house drunk with a marriage license and his lawyer. He did not propose. He stated terms. I went with him to the registry because I thought, even then, that love was a thing that won eventually.

I was wrong about every single part of that.

He never looked at me. Not once in three years. Not even on the day he signed me away.

Tonight, I was sitting in a hospital room with an eight -week-old pregnant inside me, while the only woman who loved me was dead down the hall.

 I had my mother's company in an envelope and a velvet pouch in my hand, and I didn't know where I was supposed to start.

My phone rang. I had been sitting in the silence for longer than I knew.

I looked at the screen and saw a name I didn't expect: Marcus Hale.

Marcus was Charlie’s good friend. He was the one who told me three years ago that Charlie was going to propose to Celeste before I went to the club. He was the only person in Charlie’s circle who ever showed me any bit of decency, but we hadn't spoken since the wedding.

I answered the phone. I didn't say hello; I just listened.

"Nora. It's Marcus," his voice was low, like he was hiding. "I know what happened today. I'm sorry I’m calling so late. I should have called you a long time ago. I’m calling now because... Nora, listen to me. Charlie did not find Celeste two months ago. He found her a year ago. He has known where she was for a full year. She only came home two months ago."

The world stopped moving for a second.

"I don't know what happened between you and him eight weeks ago," Marcus continued. "I’m not asking. But Nora, he knew where she was that night. He had known for ten months when he went into that bedroom with you. Whatever you have been telling yourself about that night, you should know that.

"Why are you telling me this tonight?" I finally asked.

"Because he divorced you today," Marcus said. "Because I have lied to you by staying silent for a year, and I cannot do it for one more day. I am sorry, Nora. I am so sorry."

The line went dead. He hung up.

A year. He had known for a year. He knew where she was the night of the storm. He looked at me on that staircase while the power was out and put his hand on my face. He made that sound that wasn't anger, and all the while, he knew exactly where Celeste was. He led me to his bed knowing.

I had been carrying the memory of that night for eight weeks like a small hope. I told myself that for one night, he forgot to hate me. But he didn't forget anything.

I looked through the door at Daniel and Iris in the corridor. They were watching me, waiting. I opened my mouth to tell them what Marcus had said, but I closed it again. Some things are not for telling. Some things are for keeping and using.

I walked out of the room with the pouch in one hand and the envelope in the other. I did not know what I was going to do with what Marcus had just told me. But I knew one thing. I was not the one being pushed out.

I was the one walking out with something he did not know I had.