My Husband Thought Our Divorce Was Only Temporary

"You lied to me." My voice was barely a whisper. He picked up his phone and glanced at it, his smile widening. "You got it." But he wasn't speaking to me. A woman laughed through the phone. "I knew it. She can't even swear at anyone. Is she going to ask what she did wrong next?" I grabbed the vanity to steady myself. I knew that voice far too well. When we were 18, she couldn't afford rent, so she moved into my dorm room. Curled up beside me in my narrow bed, she told me that meeting me was the luckiest thing that had ever happened to her. 5 years ago, I had come home carrying the first ultrasound image of my pregnancy, hoping to surprise Owen. It ended up on the floor beneath his shoe. That night, I was admitted to the hospital. I lost the baby. My parents were gone. I had once believed my husband, my child, and my closest friend would be my family for the rest of my life. But as I lay in that hospital bed, not one of them was beside me. Only Nathan came to see me. I didn't want to see anyone then, so I asked the nurse to send him away. He didn't knock again. Early the next morning, when a nurse helped me into the hallway for an exam, I saw him asleep in a chair in the corridor, his coat bundled in his arms and his head resting against his arms. The moment he heard us, he shot to his feet. And now he stood before me, letting Vivian listen as I cried. "Hang up," I said. Nathan set the phone on the vanity and turned the volume even higher. "She's not just some stranger." Vivian laughed louder. "Don't be so petty, Nora. He told me you still haven't recovered. Someone needs to take care of him for you." I looked at Nathan. He didn't deny it. Instead, he reached out to wipe away my tears. I turned my face aside. He withdrew his hand and said impatiently, "There are still people waiting downstairs. You'd better be ready in 10 minutes." "And if I don't go?" He picked up his jacket without looking back. "Then Vivian can go. Someone has to go downstairs with me."