I was looking at my husband.
My phone felt heavy in my pocket. I could call him right now. Right this second. Watch through these binoculars as his phone lit up with my name.
Would he even look at it?
Or would he just decline the call without a second thought, too absorbed in her to bother with me?
I already knew the answer.
He'd ignore it. Or worse he'd glance at the screen, see my name, and deliberately send it to voicemail because acknowledging me would mean tearing his attention away from Sienna, and why would he ever do that?
I lowered the binoculars slowly.
What was the point?
Calling him wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't make him see me. Wouldn't make him remember that I existed, that we were bonded, that we had a daughter together who needed both her parents.
It wouldn
