ログインMorning came, Jamie was already gone. He left a note with a sapphire necklace with the words; No mistakes, be there on time. He didn't think to wake me up.
I did my usual routine while listening to music.
When I was through and wanted to take my bath, I thought of what he would say if I didn't show up or if his tuxes weren't ironed. That reminds me.
I went up to check if he took the tux… it wasn't there but the dressing room was a mess. Every drawer was yanked open as well as his ties were scattered all over.
I guess he had a rough time making a choice on what to wear to work. Well he'll soon feel it in his bones. I began to clear the mess he made. I guess he didn't notice my clothes had reduced.
I had just finished showering and put on an oversized sweatshirt and was about to sit and read when the doorbell rang.
I opened the door to find the gardener and Elaine, our house help. My mood changed. Jamie had called them.
"I dismissed you both for the week," I said, not sparing them my discontent. "I told you I wanted the house to myself."
“Good day ma'am," Elaine said, her eyes darting to the floor, avoiding mine.. "Mr. Jamie called us back. He said the hedges were an embarrassment and the house wasn't up to his standards. He—"
"Of course he did," I snapped, rolling my eyes and cutting her off. He couldn't even let me have my way. He had to reclaim the space, to reassert his control through the people he paid.
I couldn't stand to be inside with them. I walked past them and went into the garden. It was the only part of this marriage I had truly loved. The roses were in bloom and I couldn't help it as it was begging to be plucked but as I bent down to pluck them I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen.
I screamed in pain, the next thing I knew, I was bleeding. Bleeding? I staggered and fell to the ground. I tried finding my footing but the strength had already disappeared from my legs.
"Elaine!" I screamed out in pain.
The house help rushed out, her face turning pale when she saw me. She pulled out her phone, her fingers were trembling.
Is she calling Jamie? The thought alone made my pain more unbearable. A series of thoughts came flooding in. The day I lost my baby he had ignored me saying he was in a meeting.
"Call an ambulance. Now!" I choked out.
"I—I should call Mr. Jamie first, he said—"
"Come help me up!" I fired as the pain flared up again. I knew Jamie wouldn't dare come back. He wouldn't care. To him, this would just be another inconvenience, another mess for someone else to clean up.
The gardener drove me and Elaine to the hospital. She had tried to call Jamie four times. But each of the calls went straight to voicemail. I watched the phone screen in her hand. I knew he wouldn't answer. I was lost in thought, thinking of what I had done to Jamie to deserve this. I didn't know we had arrived.
As we entered the hospital on a gurney, the white lights of the ER almost blinded me. Nurses swarmed around me, their voices were scattered but I only focused on the one voice that was concerned about me.
“She needs to be sedated. Her heart rate is too high,” the voice shouted.
“What is wrong with me? What is going on?” I asked, my voice cracking. I felt the cold sting of an IV being inserted into my arm.
“You're both going to be fine, we just need your cooperation,” the nurse said, her voice softening as she injected a sedative into the line.
Both?
The word hit me harder than the pain. “What are you talking about? Who is both?”
“You're pregnant, honey. Didn't you know?” The nurse looked at Elaine, then back at me with a mix of confusion and pity.
I was already zoning out but I didn't want to…Pregnant? It was impossible. Since the miscarriage, we had been like strangers. Except for that one night... two months ago. The night Jamie had come home drunk, taking what he wanted without a word the next morning.
"I... I need to..."
The darkness claimed me before I could finish the thought.
*
I woke up to the sound of the heart monitor. I looked around, hoping and praying to see Jamie but he wasn't there.
Elaine was there, huddled in the corner, her eyes red from crying. But the room was a regular ward. Not a private suite.
Jamie hadn't called back. He hadn't upgraded the room. He hadn't cared to check up on me.
“How's the baby?” I asked. The sound of my voice was like it was coming from a long way off, it was gusty. My head was throbbing badly behind my eyes.
“The baby's fine, ma'am. Stable,” Elaine replied, stepping closer.
“My husband?”
She shook her head, unable to look me in the eye.
His absence twisted my heart as a tear tried to escape. I touched my stomach with my trembling fingers. There was life growing inside me. A life tied to a man who couldn't be bothered to check if I was breathing. A life that made leaving him ten times more complicated.
How could I bring a child into a house that had no warmth? How could I raise a baby with a man who treated me like shit?
I saw a nurse passing by the open door and signaled her to come.
“When can I get discharged?” I asked. I didn't care about the pain or why I was bleeding. I didn't even know I was pregnant. I needed to get out of this bed. I needed to leave even before the anniversary.
I had a few hours until our anniversary. I had a baby in my womb and someone who doesn't care about me. If I didn't leave now, I knew Jamie would never let me go—not because he loved me. He might try to tell me to abort it. I had to get away before he found out.
*Alexandria's POV*---She came to the house on a Thursday.Not with a gift this time, not with a file for Jamie, not with any of the usual props she carried to make her presence seem functional rather than purposeful. She came with just herself, which was the most honest she'd ever been about what this was.Elaine showed her to the sunroom because that was where Elaine put people whose purpose she hadn't determined yet. I heard the voices from upstairs and came down slowly, thirty-four weeks making stairs a considered activity, and when I walked into the sunroom Sarah was standing at the window looking at the garden with her back to the door.She turned when she heard me.She looked tired.Not visibly, not in any way that would register to someone who hadn't spent five years watching her perform composure. But I'd spent five years watching her and I could see it in the small things. The set of her jaw. The way her eyes were doing work they usually did effortlessly."Jamie's at the of
Alexandria’s POVSix weeks out and the house had started doing something I didn’t have a word for.Preparing, maybe. Not in the practical sense — the nursery was ready, the hospital bag half packed on the chair in the corner of the bedroom, the car seat installed and checked twice by Jamie who had read the manual with the same focused attention he brought to acquisition contracts. Those things were done.It was something else. Something in the quality of the air, the way the days moved, the particular attentiveness that came over both of us when Catherine moved or when we passed the green room or when we sat in the evenings in the ordinary way we’d developed and the awareness of how little time remained of this version of things sat quietly alongside all the other ordinary things.This was the last chapter of before.I felt it in my body and in the house and in the way Jamie looked at me sometimes like he was memorizing something.My mother called on a Wednesday.She was coming back t
Alexandria’s POVWe hadn’t talked about the marriage itself.Not directly. Not in the way that required naming what it was and what we wanted it to be going forward. We’d talked around it constantly — through the therapy updates and the board proposal and the nursery and the piece and the hundred small daily things that were themselves a kind of conversation. But the direct one, the one where we sat down and looked at the actual structure of what we were to each other and what we wanted to remain, we’d been circling it for weeks.I think we were both afraid of what naming it would do.That’s the thing about living inside something that’s slowly getting better — sometimes you don’t want to examine it too directly in case the examination breaks it. Superstition dressed up as caution.The conversation happened on a Sunday.Not planned. Nothing significant ever seemed to happen on schedule in this house. We’d had breakfast, the ordinary kind, and Jamie had gone to the study and I’d been in
Alexandria’s POVI wrote it in two sittings.The first in the garden Tuesday morning, raw and fast, the kind of writing that happened when anger was clean and you knew exactly what you were trying to say. The second on Wednesday after I’d let it sit overnight and could see where the emotion was doing the work and where it was getting in the way of the argument.Kendrick got it Wednesday evening.He called twenty minutes after I sent it. No preamble, just: “This is the best thing you’ve written.”“It’s angry,” I said.“It’s precise,” he said. “There’s a difference. The anger is the engine but the argument is the thing and the argument is airtight.” A pause. “The section about the machinery. How these pieces get assembled from proximity and implication. That’s going to make people uncomfortable.”“Good.”“The people it makes most uncomfortable will be the ones who’ve built careers on this kind of thing.”“Also good.”He laughed. “You’ve changed, Alex.”“I’m the same,” I said. “I just hav
Alexandria’s POVThe article came out on a Tuesday.Not mine. Someone else’s.I found it the way you find things you weren’t looking for — Elaine had seen it shared somewhere and came to tell me with the careful voice she used when delivering things she’d rather not. A lifestyle site, the kind that survived on proximity to wealth and the particular hunger people had for watching marriages like ours from a distance. The headline was vague enough to be deniable. Something about transparency in high profile relationships. But the details inside weren’t vague at all.The hospital visit described as mysterious. The private appointments. A period of marital difficulty. The pregnancy announced at the Bellagio framed as damage control rather than joy. And near the bottom, barely there but deliberate, Kendrick’s name sitting next to mine in a sentence about private meetings.A source close to the couple.I read it twice. Set my phone face down. Looked at the kitchen wall.The first thought was
Alexandria’s POVThirty weeks felt like a corner turned.Not a dramatic one, not the kind you noticed in the moment. More like the kind you only recognized when you looked back and realized the view had changed. I was inside the third trimester properly now, Catherine’s movements no longer occasional announcements but a running commentary, her schedule becoming identifiable — quiet in the mornings, active after lunch, opinionated after dinner in a way that suggested she had already developed preferences about things.She kicked hardest when I was writing.I chose to take that as encouragement.The proposal had gone to a vote ten days after the board presentation. Patricia had circulated it with a recommendation that I hadn’t known about until Jamie mentioned it the evening before the vote, deliberately casual, the way he mentioned things he knew would matter to me and wanted me to have time to sit with before they became real.It passed.Not unanimously — two abstentions, which Kendric
Alexandria’s POVHe came home at six.I heard the car in the drive and then the front door and then the particular silence of a man who walks into his own house and immediately knows something has shifted. I was in the kitchen starting dinner actually starting it, not because he’d texted an order bu
*Alexandria's POV*I didn't sleep.I lay on the guest room floor with my back against the bed frame, my suitcase beside me like a quiet accomplice, and I watched the sky outside the window shift from black to grey. My hand kept drifting to my stomach without permission. A habit I was already forming
We left the hospital around 8pm after I was given a lot of instructions on how to go about my day so I wouldn't have issues with my pregnancy. I also ran some more tests but I was told I would get the result tomorrow.The ride home from the hospital felt like a nightmare. Every bump sent a jolt of
The ride home was quiet, except for the swish of the windshield wipers against the glass. I leaned my head against the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of neon. For the first time in five years, I didn’t check my phone every thirty seconds to see if Jamie had texted. I didn't reh







