Emma woke at 2:13 a.m. to the cold weight of the divorce papers in her hand. She’d spent the last hour in the basement making copies on the spare printer, the fresh plugs already buried deep inside her from the last session. The papers were plain, typed in clean Times New Roman, signed by the attorney Marcus had arranged weeks ago custody granted to her, no visitation, everything split down the middle except the house, which the court would auction in ninety days. She’d included the clause about the second pregnancy: *The child is legally Emma’s sole responsibility; Mark has no further claim.* She’d left the baby’s name off the papers on purpose. She didn’t want his name on anything anymore.
Mark slept beside her, one arm draped over the dark line of her belly, snoring softly. She stared
