“I was at the ER,” I said. “I texted you. I called you.”
“I was busy,” Logan barked. “You’re always inventing drama to get out of work.”
I stared at him, the shock turning to something colder.
“I miscarried,” I said flatly. “The baby is gone.”
For one heartbeat, the room paused. I waited—stupidly—for a flicker of regret. A crack in his cruelty. Anything.
Logan’s mouth twisted. “No you didn’t. That’s a lie. You just forgot groceries and now you’re pulling a stunt.”
Helen made a sound—half scoff, half sigh—like my pain was inconvenient.
And then Logan stepped closer. Too close.
I lifted a hand, not to fight—just to create space.
“Logan, please—”
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