Lucas
I buried myself in work after Cynthia’s miscarriage. I decided to stop fussing over pregnancy, babies, or family plans. What would happen would happen.
Cynthia had her freedom as usual. She could travel, attend galas, or just disappear into Manhattan for weeks, I didn’t care. I wasn’t angry with her about the miscarriage. It wasn’t her fault, and honestly, I was tired of trying to force something she didn’t want yet.
When I mentioned to her one evening, “Do whatever makes you happy,” she looked at me, genuinely surprised.
“You’re… letting me just be?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
I shrugged, leaning back in my chair. “Yes. I’m done forcing things. It’s your life. Live it.”
She smiled, a mixture of relief and mischief, and shook her head. “You really are a strange man, Lucas
