Chapter 2 - Three Days Earlier
On Friday afternoon, sunlight poured through the white nursery curtains, warming the pale walls and framed pictures of teddy bears and balloons.
Emma barely noticed it.
She sat in the beige rocking chair with Ethan against her chest, trying to ignore the pounding behind her eyes.
Their son was only three weeks old.
Since returning from the hospital, Emma had slept in pieces. Twenty minutes here. Forty minutes there. Ryan often promised to take the next feeding, but when Ethan cried at night, he rolled over and said he had work in the morning.
Emma had stopped reminding him that she had not slept either.
That afternoon, something felt different.
Her headache was sharper. Her vision blurred whenever she stood. Her hands were swollen, and a strange pressure had formed beneath her ribs.
She had called the medical office twice. The nurse had instructed her to come in immediately or ask someone to take her to the emergency room.
Emma looked toward the hallway.
Ryan was packing.
He entered the nursery wearing a teal sweater and carrying a black weekend bag.
“You’re still going?” Emma asked.
Ryan avoided her eyes.
“It’s already paid for.”
“I need to see a doctor.”
“You saw doctors for nine months.”
“The nurse said it could be serious.”
Ryan sighed and glanced at his watch.
His friends had rented a lakeside cabin for his birthday. At least, that was what he had told Emma.
“You’ve been anxious since Ethan was born,” he said. “Every little thing scares you.”
Emma tightened her arms around the baby.
“This isn’t anxiety. Something is wrong.”
Ryan walked to the bassinet and looked down at his son.
For one moment, Emma thought he might understand.
Then his phone vibrated.
He turned the screen away too quickly.
“Who is that?” Emma asked.
“Mark. They’re waiting.”
Ryan leaned down and kissed Ethan’s forehead. He did not kiss Emma.
“I’ll be back Monday.”
“Ryan, please.”
“You have diapers, food, and the emergency numbers on the refrigerator.”
“I can barely stand.”
“You stood five minutes ago.”
Emma stared at him.
She realized he was not failing to understand.
He had decided not to understand.
Ryan picked up his bag.
“Call my mother if you need company.”
“I need my husband.”
His expression hardened.
“I need one weekend where everything isn’t about you.”
Then he walked toward the front door.
Emma attempted to follow him but collapsed beside the bassinet before reaching the hallway.
“Ryan,” she called.
He looked back.
“Please don’t leave me.”
Ryan gripped his bag.
May you like
“It’s my birthday weekend. Stop being dramatic.”
The door closed.
