And then he said it.
“I’m thinking of spiking her drink at the next gala. Set the scene. Let her wake up next to a guy so everyone will think she cheated with another guy. By then, I could file for a divorce because everyone would side with me, even her family. I’ll walk away clean and then be with Patricia.”
My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat. He wanted me gone. That was the moment something inside me shattered—and something else, something harder, began to take its place.
I pulled myself back into the present when I heard his voice call from the kitchen.
“Babe! I made your favorite.”
I wiped my eyes quickly and stood, walking slowly toward the smell of food. I knew what was coming. He was trying again. Trying to play the perfect husband before the next blow.
I stepped into the kitchen. He stood by the stove, smiling, wearing that apron Patricia had gifted him.
"Come on, sit." He kissed my cheek like nothing had ever happened. Like we didn’t lose our child. He didn’t even mourn with me and just told me we could make another baby.
I looked down at the food and felt my stomach turn.