Chapter 6

I gave him a mocking look, then closed my eyes and said, "I'll trust you one last time."

Daniel stayed by my side and the baby's for the entire morning.

He didn't take a single step out of the room.

He held our son and smiled at me like he was showing off.

"See, Claire? I can do it. I'll always be here for you and the baby.

"Let's stop fighting and just be good from now on, okay?"

I didn't answer. I looked out the window and silently counted down.

How long would he last this time?

In the afternoon, my chest suddenly tightened, my heart started racing, and my blood pressure plummeted.

I had just called the doctor in when Daniel's phone rang.

It was his mother. Her voice was so shrill I could hear it through the phone.

"Daniel! Come quick! Rebecca's ex, Travis, showed up at the hospital making a scene! He brought a knife!"

Daniel went stiff and looked at me, lying pale in the hospital bed.

"Claire, I..."

"Don't forget your promise." Gasping for air, I reached out and grabbed the hem of his shirt.

"I know, but you heard her. That lunatic has a knife! What if somebody gets killed?"

He pried my fingers loose, turned, and walked away.

"You've got doctors and nurses here. You'll be fine. I'll just go take a look and come right back!"

The door slammed shut.

His footsteps faded down the hallway.

I gave a bitter little laugh at myself. The next second, everything went black, and I lost consciousness completely.

When I woke up again, I was in the ICU.

Tubes ran all over my body, and my chest was so tight I could barely breathe.

Mom sat by the bed crying, her eyes swollen.

When she saw I was awake, she choked out, "You had a postpartum seizure and inhaled fluid into your lungs. It turned into aspiration pneumonia. We almost lost you... They worked on you for three hours."

I opened my mouth. My voice came out hoarse.

"Where is he?"

Mom turned her face away, crying even harder.

I didn't need to ask.

He hadn't come back.

My phone buzzed next to my pillow.

I struggled to pick it up. It was a message from Rebecca.

[Claire, Daniel told me you're really sick? I'm so sorry. My ex came and caused trouble today, and I had to bother Daniel again.]

[Please don't blame him. He's just softhearted and can't stand to see me suffer.]

[Once I'm feeling a little better, I'll come see you.]

I looked at those three lines and suddenly laughed.

How familiar.

Every time he abandoned me for her, she'd send an "apology" like this afterward.

It looked like guilt. It was really gloating.

I replied: [No need.]

Then I opened my photo album.

Three years of our lives were stored there.

A candid shot of him leaning down to kiss me under the fireworks on New Year's Eve.

A screenshot of him grinning like an idiot, clutching our marriage certificate.

The ultrasound printout he'd photographed with shaking hands the first time we heard the baby's heartbeat...

I swiped through them. Without hesitating, I selected every photo of us together and hit delete.

The progress bar slowly crept to the end, as if it were wiping away three years of hope and stubborn attachment along with them.

Just then, the ICU door opened.

It was Daniel.

His clothes were disheveled and his eyes were full of panic. When he saw I was awake, he rushed over.

"Claire, you scared me to death. How are you? Does it hurt?"

"Daniel," I interrupted him. My voice was soft, but every word was clear. "You've used up all three chances. Let's get divorced."

He froze.

The thermos of soup in his hand crashed to the floor.