I laughed, sure this had to be exhaustion talking.
“Go where? I just had our baby. Open the door.”
“I need space,” he said. “Please don’t make this harder.”
My hands began to shake. I told him I’d go to my sister Vanessa’s—and that when I came back, he’d better have an explanation.
I left believing my marriage was over.
That night, at Vanessa’s apartment, I barely slept. Between feedings, I replayed every moment, searching for what I’d missed. I called Ray. Texted him. No response.
By morning, I decided I’d go back, pack my things, and figure out how to be a single mother.
Then Ray showed up, pounding on Vanessa’s door.
He looked wrecked—paint on his shirt, dust on his jeans, panic in his eyes.
“Please,” he said. “Ten minutes. Just trust me.”
Against every instinct, I agreed.
On the drive home, I noticed a brand-new car seat in the back.
