Chapter 2

"No," I said.

The word was quiet, but it echoed in the sudden silence.

Chloe stared, her mouth falling open slightly.

"No?"

"Mark's family can take care of you. Or Mark himself, when he' s able."

I added, "I have that work trip. I need to prepare."

It wasn't a lie. Olivia had been trying to get me to take this international project for months.

Now, it felt like a lifeline.

Chloe' s face crumpled, then hardened. "You're being cruel, Ethan! Unbelievably cruel! I just went through major surgery!"

"You made a choice, Chloe."

I thought of all the sacrifices I' d made for her, for us.

Quitting my band because she didn't like the late nights.

Moving to this city, away from my friends and family, because she wanted to be closer to her "network."

Putting my own career ambitions on hold to support hers.

Our shared dreams, now just ashes.

"You always do this!" she shrieked, her voice rising. "You always make me out to be the bad guy! I saved a man's life! What's wrong with that?"

"You ended another one to do it, Chloe. Without a word to me."

My calmness seemed to infuriate her more than shouting would have.

She tried a different tactic, her voice softening, tears welling up again.

"Remember when I had that awful flu, and you made me soup every day? You read to me for hours. You were so good to me."

She reached out, tried to take my hand.

I pulled away, a small, almost imperceptible movement, but she noticed.

Her eyes flashed.

"It was Mark, Ethan! He would have died! Don't you understand? It was a moral obligation."

A moral obligation.

To her ex-husband.

Over the life of our child.

Over our marriage.

The hypocrisy was a bitter taste in my mouth.

The internal rage I felt was immense, a burning inferno. She talked about saving a life, completely dismissing the one she chose to extinguish.

Our child. Our baby. Gone.

And she expected me to what? Congratulate her? Cook her recovery meals?

"I need you to go to the store," she said, her tone shifting back to entitlement. "The list specifies organic chicken broth, not the regular kind."

I stood up.

"I' m going to pack for my trip, Chloe."

It wasn' t just a work trip anymore. It was an escape.

"You can't be serious!" she screamed. "You're abandoning me! You have no conscience!"

I walked towards the bedroom, her accusations following me like a swarm of angry bees.

I remembered the day we found out she was pregnant.

The joy on her face, a joy I now questioned. Was any of it real?

All those plans, all those whispered dreams in the dark. Shattered.

She followed me to the doorway, her voice cracking.

"What if it was your mother, Ethan? What if she needed you? Wouldn't you do anything?"

Then, as if a switch flipped, "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry if I upset you. Now, can you please just help me?"

The apology was so perfunctory, so empty.

I paused, my back to her.

"It's not about being upset, Chloe."

She brightened instantly, misinterpreting my quiet tone. "Good. I knew you'd understand. You always do."

She actually smiled, a small, self-satisfied smile.

It was then I realized.

My kindness, my willingness to always accommodate her, had enabled this.

I had taught her that her actions had no real consequences, at least not from me.

A memory surfaced, unbidden.

A year ago, Mark had a health scare. Nothing major, but Chloe had rushed to his side, staying for days.

"He was there for me when my father died," she'd said, her eyes shining with a fierce loyalty. "I owe him."

Owe him.

Even then, a small part of me had felt a chill.

My internal voice was dripping with sarcasm now. Repaying kindness. Noble.

But at what cost?

Our child' s life. My heart. Our future.

I turned, picked up my suitcase from the top of the closet.

"I'm staying at David's tonight."