Chapter 2

Jason slipped on his coat and closed the door gently behind him.

He tried to act like everything was fine, but I could see right through the worry and urgency flickering in his eyes.

What kind of touching scene would unfold when former lovers saw each other again?

Sleep was out of the question. I gave up, turned on the light, and stared blankly at the ceiling.

Ridiculous. We'd been married for three years, and I never once knew my husband had a first love he couldn't forget.

It wasn't until a month ago that I stumbled upon the hidden folder on his computer by accident. Inside was a video of them, wild and breathless in their youth, and a long, handwritten poem—a confession of love so fevered it almost felt unreal. That's how I learned how recklessly, how madly Jason had once loved a girl named Denise Harper.

My thoughts tangled into knots.

Morning came painfully slow.

Then, all at once, the blare of my alarm snapped me out of my daze at 7:00 a.m. on the dot.

It had been much more than half an hour since Jason left to see Denise.

He'd sent one text message, saying he'd come back once things were handled, and told me not to worry.

I guessed he'd forgotten—today was my first prenatal checkup.

It was not just a routine one either. There were multiple tests scheduled, and the hospital wasn't close by. Even outside of rush hour, it would take at least forty minutes to get there.

That was why I had gone out of my way to grab an early 8 a.m. appointment—fewer people, less waiting.

But even my careful plans got derailed.

The clock was ticking, and there was still no sign of Jason.

A quiet hollowness crept through my chest.

Annoyed, I called him. It rang twice before cutting off—"the user is on another call."

A moment later, a message popped up: [Babe, what's up?]

Even though I was angry, I kept my temper in check and reminded him: [Eight o'clock. First prenatal checkup. Did you forget?]

Silence.

I waited. No reply.

My heart sank fast and heavy.

I opened the ride-hailing app and called a car myself.

Just as I got into the cab, my phone rang.

"Becca, I'm sorry, I might be a little late."

He sounded completely drained, voice rough and hoarse.

"Could you ask Ruby to go with you for now. I'll order a car for you two. I'll treat you both to a nice dinner later."

"I'm already in the car." My voice came out cold, and I hung up. My eyes stung for no reason at all.

Never mind the fact that my bestie Ruby had gone out of town for work, even if she were here, I couldn't bring myself to ask.

When your husband skips out on his wife to stay with his ex? Tell me—how am I supposed to accept that?