The way he said it? It used to melt me. Now it made my stomach twist.
He still didn’t notice.
He still didn’t know there was no baby anymore.
I held the divorce certificate tight in my hand. “Dominic,” I said quietly, “I have something to tell you.”
He frowned, already half checking his watch. “Can we talk later? I’m really in a rush.”
“So busy you can’t give me five minutes?”
His jaw clenched. “It’s important, Rosie. Please. Tonight, okay?”
“More important than me?” I asked.
His answer came fast. “Yes. MORE IMPORTANT THAN MY LIFE.”
I smiled at that. It wasn’t anger I felt. Just a kind of hollow calm. Like when you’ve been crying for too long and your body forgets how to feel.
“Then go,” I said softly. “Don’t be late.”
He looked at me like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He just kissed my forehead and walked out the door.
When the sound of his car disappeared, I went into the kitchen. The fridge light flickered as I opened it.
Inside was a small white box. The same one that had been there for weeks.
I took it out, placed it on the coffee table, and opened it.