“Divorce. No."
Andrew doesn't look up. “She said divorce."
Ben waits. “Do you want me to—"
“No. I'll handle it."
Ben nods once and retreats.
Andrew stays with the door. “You're angry," he says softly into the quiet. “You're hurt. You don't mean it." He exhales. “You don't."
He nods and moves on.
Samantha's room is two turns away. He pauses at the threshold. The blinds are half-drawn; the room is a quiet theater. Samantha lies pale, eyes closed, hands clasped as if holding something fragile inside.
Andrew clears his throat. “Samantha."
“Andrew?" Her voice is small. “Did you sleep?"
“No." He comes closer. “You shouldn't have gone to Natalie's room."
“I wanted to say sorry," she whispers. “I heard… I heard about the baby." Tears rise quick. “I didn't know."
He sits at the edge of
