“I could go into labor today,” Madison said.
Ethan looked at his watch.
“Then call an Uber.”
The baby shifted hard under her ribs.
Madison pressed a hand to her stomach.
“Ethan.”
He picked up his suitcase handle.
“Don’t start a fight. Stay quiet and call an Uber. Tickets are non-refundable.”
For a second, the whole house seemed to hold its breath.
The nursery upstairs was painted sage green.
The crib was assembled.
The little stack of washed onesies on the kitchen table still smelled faintly of baby detergent and burnt toast.
Madison looked at the man she had married and saw not a villain from a movie, but something more ordinary and more dangerous.
A person who had gotten comfortable being chosen while refusing to choose back.
She did not scream.
She did not ask his mother to come inside and look at her.
She did not beg his father to say what a decent person would have said.
