I started crying.
Not the violent sobbing from earlier.
Quiet tears.
The kind that seem to come from exhaustion more than emotion.
My doctor had already been monitoring me closely because I had experienced episodes of high blood pressure during the pregnancy.
I knew I needed stability.
Whatever happened to my marriage, my baby needed me functioning.
That became the only thought I trusted.
So I made a decision.
I would not forgive Daniel.
I would not pretend nothing happened.
But I would postpone the war.
The following morning, Daniel arrived at my parents’ house.
His eyes were swollen.
Whether from crying or lack of sleep, I didn’t know.
He looked terrible.
Good, some bitter part of me thought.
He tried to touch my hand.
I pulled away.
“Don’t.”
“Claire, please.”
“I know everything.”
His face crumpled.
“I ended it.”
I laughed softly.
“Congratulations.”
“I made the worst mistake of my life.”
