Chapter 3

Mark walked out of the hospital room without a backward glance, leaving me to get dressed with trembling hands.

"Just meet me at the car," he'd said, his tone making it clear I was an unwanted package he was being forced to collect.

The hospital gown felt flimsy as I peeled it off. I was pulling on my stained t-shirt when the door creaked open. I expected a nurse, or worse, Mark coming back to hurry me along.

But it was Emily.

My best friend. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with worry. She didn't say a word. She just rushed to me and wrapped her arms around me, holding me so tightly I could feel the frantic beat of her heart against my chest.

I collapsed against her, a sob tearing its way out of my throat, the first sound I' d made that wasn't a hoarse whisper. It was a raw, ugly sound, full of all the pain and fear I had been holding inside for months.

"Oh, Sarah," she murmured into my hair, her own voice thick with tears. "I came as soon as I heard. Mark's assistant called him... Chloe... she posted something. I knew. I just knew you'd see it."

She pulled back and held my face in her hands, her warm palms a stark contrast to the coldness that had settled deep in my bones.

"I'm so sorry. I should have been here. I should have done more."

"It's not your fault," I managed to choke out. "It's me. I'm broken, Em."

"No," she said, her expression fierce. "You're not broken. You're sick. There's a difference. I've seen this coming for a long time, Sarah. Ever since Leo..."

Her voice trailed off, the mention of his name hanging in the air between us.

Ever since Leo was born, I had been sinking. The sleepless nights, the constant crying-his and mine-the feeling of being completely overwhelmed and disconnected from the beautiful baby I was supposed to love unconditionally. I did love him, so much it hurt, but something else was there too. A darkness. A heavy fog that wouldn't lift.

I tried to talk to Mark about it. He'd just wave a hand dismissively. "All new moms are tired, Sarah. It's normal."

Then, when Leo died, the fog became a suffocating blackness. SIDS, the doctors called it. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. A tragedy with no explanation. A gaping hole in our lives that Mark seemed determined to fill with work, with late nights, with Chloe.

Emily led me to the hard plastic chair in the corner and sat beside me, still holding my hand.

"I remember your wedding," she said softly, her voice wistful. "You were so happy. You and Mark were... perfect. You designed that beautiful house together, your careers were taking off. Everything was exactly how you'd planned it."

I remembered it too. It felt like a lifetime ago, like a story about someone else. Sarah Miller, the brilliant young architect, marrying Mark Peterson, the handsome, successful developer. We were the couple everyone envied. We were going to build an empire, starting with our perfect life in our perfect glass house.

But a glass house is a fragile thing.

The first crack appeared when Chloe was hired as his assistant. The late nights became later. The scent of her perfume clung to his clothes. The excuses became more elaborate.

Then I got pregnant. I thought a baby would fix us. Leo would be the glue that held our perfect life together. Instead, he was the wedge that drove us completely apart. My depression became a chasm between us, a chasm Chloe was all too happy to help him cross.

"I'm not living, Em," I whispered, looking at the white bandage on my wrist. "I'm just... waiting. I don't know how to do this anymore. I don't want to."

Emily squeezed my hand, her knuckles white. "Then we'll figure it out together. You're not alone in this. I won't let you be."

But as I looked into her worried eyes, I knew even her love might not be enough to pull me back from the edge I was so desperate to leap from. Outside, I could hear Mark's car horn honking impatiently. My prison warden was waiting.