Chapter 1

The sound of the key in the lock was the only thing that broke the silence of the apartment.

Ethan walked in, dropping his briefcase by the door with a heavy thud. He loosened his tie as his eyes scanned the living room, a frown immediately forming on his face.

"Ava? Are you here?"

I didn't answer from the couch. I just watched him.

His gaze landed on the dinner plates from last night, still sitting on the coffee table. Then it drifted to the kitchen, where the breakfast dishes were piled in the sink.

"Seriously?" he said, his voice laced with annoyance. "I work a twelve-hour day, and I come home to this? What have you been doing all day?"

I didn't move. I just felt a familiar coldness spread through my chest. It used to be that I'd rush to apologize, to explain that the morning sickness was bad today, that I felt dizzy and needed to rest.

Not anymore.

"I was busy," I said, my voice flat.

He scoffed, walking over to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. "Busy doing what? Watching TV?"

He took a long drink, then looked back at me, his eyes finally seeming to register that I was there. "You look pale. Are you feeling sick again?"

There was no concern in his voice, only irritation. As if my pregnancy was a massive inconvenience to him.

He pulled out his phone and started scrolling, his thumb moving quickly. A moment later, my own phone buzzed on the table. A notification lit up the screen: Ethan sent you $5,000.

"There," he said, not looking up from his screen. "Go buy yourself something nice. A new bag or something. Maybe that'll make you feel better."

For nine years, this was his solution to everything. An argument, a missed anniversary, a lonely night. He threw money at the problem until it went away. In the beginning, I thought it was his way of showing love. Now I knew it was just a transaction. A payment for my silence and compliance.

I stared at the notification without touching my phone. The money meant nothing.

"Ethan," I said, my voice quiet but clear. "Let's get a divorce."

He finally looked up from his phone, a short, humorless laugh escaping his lips. "What? Are you serious? Don't be so dramatic, Ava. Is this about the dishes?"

"It's not about the dishes."

"Then what is it? Your hormones are all over the place. Just take the money, go shopping tomorrow, and you'll forget all about this." He dismissed my words as if I were a child throwing a tantrum.

His phone buzzed again. He glanced down, and this time, I saw it. I saw the screen light up before he could angle it away.

The lock screen wasn't a picture of me. It wasn't a picture of our daughter, Lily.

It was a photo of him with another woman. A younger woman, pretty, with a bright, possessive smile. Her name was Chloe. His "little girlfriend," as my friend Mark sarcastically called her. In the photo, she was kissing his cheek, and he was smiling, a genuine, happy smile I hadn't seen directed at me in years.

That photo used to be a picture of us. It was taken on our honeymoon, nine years ago. We were on a beach, and I was on his back, laughing, the sun setting behind us. He had promised me forever that day.

Now, his forever had someone else in it.

He saw that I'd seen it. A flicker of something-annoyance, not guilt-crossed his face before he quickly shoved the phone in his pocket.

"Don't start," he warned.

"I'm not starting anything," I said, my voice still eerily calm. "I'm ending it."

He rolled his eyes and started walking toward the bedroom. "We'll talk about this when you're being rational."

His phone buzzed again, this time with a call. He answered it, his voice instantly changing. It became soft, gentle, full of a warmth that was now reserved only for her.

"Hey, what's up? ... No, I'm just at home. ... Yeah, she's here." He glanced over at me, his expression turning back to cold indifference. "Don't worry about it."

I watched him, this man I had loved for almost a decade, this man who was the father of my child and the one growing inside me. He was a stranger.

I felt a wave of nausea, but it wasn't from the pregnancy. It was from the disgust churning in my stomach. He was disgusted by my sickness, by my needs, by the very sight of me.

He lowered his voice, but I could still hear him. "I already told her. Chloe is taking Lily to her piano lesson tomorrow. It's all set."

He was letting that woman, his mistress, get involved in our daughter's life. He was replacing me, piece by piece, right in front of my eyes.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Chloe? You're letting her take my daughter to piano?"

He shot me a glare, covering the phone's receiver. "What's wrong with that? Chloe is great with Lily. She actually plays with her, unlike you, who's always 'too tired'."

"So you've arranged a new mother for her already? How thoughtful of you, Ethan."

His face contorted with rage. "What the hell is wrong with you tonight, Ava? Can't you be normal for five minutes?" he hissed.

"Normal?" I stood up, a sharp pain shooting through my lower abdomen. I clutched my stomach, trying to breathe through it. "You want me to be normal?"

He didn't even notice my pain. His eyes were hard, his jaw tight with anger.

"I'm done being normal, Ethan," I said, my voice breaking slightly. "I'm done pretending this is a marriage."

Then, looking him straight in the eye, I delivered the final blow.

"The baby is gone."