Something had changed.
Something had made him believe he could get away with it.
At the hospital, doctors checked the baby immediately.
Those were the longest minutes of my life.
I watched the monitor.
I watched every movement.
I watched every expression on the doctor’s face.
Finally, she looked at me.
“The baby is stressed, but still stable.”
I closed my eyes.
A sound escaped my mouth that I didn’t recognize.
A mixture of relief and exhaustion.
My baby was still fighting.
So was I.
Hours later, a detective came into my room.
He introduced himself as Detective Hayes.
He placed a folder on the chair beside my bed.
“We found something at the house.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation scared me more than anything.
“What is it?”
He opened the folder.
Inside was a photograph.
Not of me.
Not of the backyard.
Of another woman.
