Chapter 4
727 Words
The room was so quiet that even the zipper brushing against the suitcase sounded loud.
I paused for only a split second before closing the lid and zipping it shut.
"These are old clothes I couldn't wear when I was pregnant."
I straightened and looked at him.
"They're only taking up space. I'll have someone donate them tomorrow."
Adrian stared at me for a while before the tension finally left his shoulders.
He came over and pulled me into his arms. Resting his chin on my head, he even stroked my hair twice.
"You're finally learning to be sensible."
His lazy voice carried the smell of liquor past my ear.
"Let the housekeeper handle it tomorrow. Don't exhaust yourself."
I didn't pull away. I let him hold me, the mixed scent of perfume and alcohol filling my nose.
In the early hours of the morning, the baby suddenly started vomiting.
His little face burned red. He was vomiting and diarrhea, and his cries grew weak. Eventually, even his lips turned blue.
Outside, rain pounded the windows as thunder crashed again and again.
I grabbed the baby and rushed into the study.
"Adrian, the baby has acute gastroenteritis. We need to get him to the hospital right now!"
Adrian looked up from a pile of documents. The moment he saw the baby, he stood and grabbed his car keys.
Then his phone rang.
It was Chloe again.
The instant he answered, his brow furrowed.
"Adrian, where are you? I'm terrified..." Chloe sobbed, thunder rumbling in the background. "My car broke down on the mountain road. The thunder is so loud, and I can't breathe..."
She choked back another sob.
"Adrian, I don't think I can go on living..."
Holding the keys, Adrian froze.
He looked out the window, then down at the baby in my arms—and swallowed hard.
Our baby's body stiffened, and his limbs began to convulse.
"Adrian Cole, our baby is having a seizure!"
He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he'd made his choice.
"He probably just ate something bad. It's only a fever."
Clenching the keys, he spoke rapidly,
"I'll have the driver pick you up immediately. Chloe is stranded. She could die. I have to go."
I grabbed his sleeve.
He yanked it free—and took the car keys with him.
Without even grabbing an umbrella, Adrian ran into the rain.
I knelt on the floor, holding my baby. From the driveway came the sound of a car starting, soon swallowed by the downpour.
The driver never came.
I stopped waiting.
I wrapped the baby in a raincoat and ran into the storm. Floodwater had already reached above my knees.
The cold water hit my C-section incision. Numbing pain came in waves as the wound split reopened.
Standing in the middle of the road, I spread my arms and stopped a passing truck.
*****
The lights in the emergency room were painfully bright.
After 2 hours of treatment, my baby was finally out of danger.
I sat beside his bed, soaked to the bone. Wet strands clung to my face, still dripping.
My son slept in my arms, the blue tinge gone from his little face.
I pulled a divorce agreement from a waterproof bag.
A few days earlier, I'd tucked it into a stack of orchestra sponsorship contracts for Chloe and handed them all to Adrian for his signature.
At the time, he'd been consumed with clearing a path for Chloe. He'd also never taken me seriously.
Without reading a single page, he'd signed at the end.
I took out my phone and called a moving company.
"Yes, come now. Take everything that belongs to me."
At 3 a.m., after calming Chloe's supposed panic attack in a hotel, Adrian returned home with rainwater still clinging to him.
No light had been left on in the entryway.
He opened the door and called out by habit, "Natalie, I'm home!"
No one answered.
Frowning, Adrian went first to the storage room.
The door was open. The cello he'd always complained about was gone.
He strode to the master bedroom and pushed open the door.
Half the closet was empty.
Only a pacifier remained in the crib.
Adrian pulled out his phone and called me. A recorded voice answered.
"Sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service."
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