What We Left Behind

Chapter 2

Maya's POV

I wake up to an empty bed. Again.

The clock on the nightstand reads 8:47 AM. Saturday morning, and Daniel still isn't home.

I reach for my phone. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing.

My finger hovers over his contact, but I stop myself. If I call and he's angry that I'm checking up on him, it'll start our day off on the wrong foot. And I still need to tell him about the babies. That conversation should happen when we're both calm and happy, not when I'm hurt and suspicious.

I get out of bed and pad to the bathroom. My reflection looks tired. There are dark circles under my eyes that weren't there yesterday. I splash water on my face and try to remember Dr. Mitchell's warning about stress.

In the kitchen, the dumplings from last night sit in the steamer, congealed and unappetizing now. I dump them in the trash, a lump forming in my throat. It feels like I'm throwing away more than just food.

My phone buzzes. Finally.

But it's not Daniel. It's Claire again.

You okay? You usually respond faster than this.

I stare at her message. Am I okay? I don't even know anymore.

Just a weird night, I text back. Daniel got held up with work stuff.

The three dots appear immediately. On a Friday night?

Investor crisis, I type, then add, apparently.

The dots appear and disappear several times. I can picture Claire's face, the way she chews her bottom lip when she's trying to decide whether to say something. Finally, a message comes through.

Have you talked to Marcus lately?

My stomach tightens. No. Why?

No reason. Just wondering.

But it's not 'no reason.' Claire doesn't do 'no reason.' We worked together for three years before I quit, and I learned to read her tells. This is her 'I know something, but I don't know if I should tell you'.

Claire, I type. What is it?

Call me when you can talk privately.

Now I'm really worried. I'm about to dial her number when I hear a key in the lock. Daniel's home.

Later, I send to Claire, then set my phone down and try to arrange my face into something that doesn't look accusatory or hurt.

Daniel walks in, and my breath catches. He looks terrible. His suit is rumpled, his tie is missing, and there are dark circles under his eyes that match mine. His dark hair is messy, like he's been running his hands through it all night.

"Hey," he says, not quite meeting my eyes.

"Hey yourself." I stay where I am, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Long night?"

"You have no idea." He drops his briefcase by the door and loosens his collar. "I need a shower."

"Daniel, wait—"

"Can we talk later, Maya? I'm exhausted." He's already walking toward the bedroom.

I follow him. "We need to talk now. You've been gone for almost fourteen hours. You didn't call, you barely texted, and I—"

"I told you there was an investor crisis." His voice has an edge to it now.

"At a restaurant? I saw the tracking app, Daniel. You weren't at the office."

He spins around, and for a second, I see something flash across his face. Guilt? Anger? I can't tell.

"So you're checking up on me now?"

"I'm not checking up on you. I was worried."

"I'm a grown man, Maya. I can take care of myself."

"That's not what I..." I take a breath, trying to calm down. This is not how this conversation should go. "Look, I just want to know what's going on. You've been distant lately, and last night..."

"Last night I was dealing with work. Important work. The kind of work that pays for this apartment and everything in it." He gestures around the room. "Or did you forget that while you were sitting here feeling sorry for yourself?"

I step back like he's slapped me. Daniel has never spoken to me like this. Never.

"I wasn't feeling sorry for myself. I made dinner. I wanted to spend time with you. Is that such a crime?"

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "No. It's not a crime. I'm sorry. I'm just tired and stressed, and I took it out on you. That wasn't fair."

"What's going on, Daniel? Really?"

He looks at me then, and for a moment, I see the man I married. The one who used to bring me coffee in bed and leave notes in my lunch and dance with me in the kitchen while dinner was cooking.

"It's complicated," he says quietly.

"Then, uncomplicate it. We're married. We're supposed to share things."

He's quiet for a long moment, and I hold my breath. This is it. He's going to tell me what's really going on, and we're going to work through it together, and then I'll tell him about the babies, and everything will be okay.

"I can't right now," he finally says. "I just... I need to shower and sleep, and then we'll talk. Okay?"

It's not okay. It's nowhere close to okay. But I nod anyway, because I don't know what else to do.

He disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the shower turn on. I stand in the bedroom, one hand on my stomach, feeling more alone than I've ever felt in my life.

My phone buzzes. Claire again.

Did you call him?

He just got home, I text back. What do you know, Claire?

This time, the response is immediate.

I saw Marcus yesterday. At a bar. He was pretty drunk.

My heart starts pounding. And?

And he said something about Daniel and a "situation" he was trying to fix. He wouldn't tell me details, but Maya... he looked worried. Really worried.

What kind of situation?

I don't know. He clammed up when he realized he'd said too much. But when I mentioned you, he got this look on his face. Like he felt sorry for you.

I sink onto the bed, my legs suddenly weak. You're scaring me.

I might be wrong. It might be nothing. But Maya... just be careful, okay? And if you need me, I'm here.

The shower turns off. I hear Daniel moving around in the bathroom, and a minute later, he comes out wearing just a towel, water still beading on his skin.

Under different circumstances, I'd go to him. He'd pull me close, and we'd forget about everything else for a while. That's how we used to solve our problems—with physical connection, with reminders of why we chose each other.

But today, I can't move. I just watch him as he gets dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, as he climbs into bed without another word, as he turns his back to me and closes his eyes.

"I love you," I say softly.

He doesn't respond. Within minutes, his breathing evens out, and I know he's asleep.

I grab my phone and my purse and leave the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind me. In the living room, I pull out the pregnancy test results and stare at them.

This was supposed to be the best news of our lives. So why does it feel like I'm holding a ticking bomb?

I text Claire. Can you meet me now?

Her response comes immediately. Address me the coffee shop on Valencia. I'll be there in twenty.

The coffee shop is busy when I arrive, full of weekend brunch crowds and people hiding behind laptops. Claire has already claimed a corner table, two mugs of tea waiting. She stands up when she sees me, and her face falls.

"You look terrible," she says bluntly.

"Thanks." I slide into the seat across from her. "You really know how to make a girl feel better."

"I mean it as a friend. Maya, what's going on?"

I wrap my hands around the warm mug, letting it ground me. "You first. Tell me what Marcus said."

Claire glances around, then leans in. "He wouldn't give me specifics. But he mentioned something about Daniel making a big mistake, something about the past coming back. He kept saying he was trying to fix it before it was too late."

"Too late for what?"

"That's what I couldn't get out of him. But Maya, he was really upset. Marcus is usually Mr. Cool and Collected, but he was a mess."

I think about Daniel's behavior, the late nights, the distance. The way he couldn't meet my eyes this morning.

"Do you think he's having an affair?" The words hurt to say out loud.

Claire's face softens. "I don't know. Maybe? But honestly, it didn't sound like that. It sounded like... something else. Something bigger."

"What could be bigger than an affair?"

She doesn't answer, just reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.

I pull the pregnancy test results from my purse and slide them across the table. "I found out yesterday."

Claire's eyes widen as she reads. "Oh my God. Maya. Twins?"

"Twins."

"Does Daniel know?"

I shake my head. "I was going to tell him last night. I made his favorite dinner, set everything up. But he never came home."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know." I take a shaky sip of tea. "Part of me thinks I should tell him right now, wake him up and just blurt it out. Maybe it'll fix whatever's wrong. Maybe it'll remind him of what we have."

"And the other part?"

"The other part is terrified that it won't matter. That whatever's happening with him is bigger than me, bigger than us, bigger than two babies who haven't even been born yet."

Claire is quiet for a moment. "You want my honest opinion?"

"Always."

"Wait. Don't tell him yet. Figure out what's going on first. Because if something bad is happening, you need to protect yourself and those babies. You can't make good decisions when you're in the dark."

I want to argue. I want to say that marriage means sharing everything, that keeping secrets is wrong. But the look on Daniel's face this morning flashes through my mind. The way he wouldn't meet my eyes. The edge in his voice when he snapped at me.

"Okay," I hear myself say. "I'll wait."

We sit in silence for a while, sipping our tea. Around us, the coffee shop buzzes with normal Saturday morning energy. People laughing, couples holding hands, a family with two small kids making a mess with their pancakes.

That could be us in a couple of years, I think. Daniel and me, with our twins, making memories and messes and building a life together.

But first, I need to figure out what's threatening to tear that future apart.

My phone buzzes with a new text. From an unknown number.

Mrs. Rivera, this is Marcus Webb. We need to talk. Can you meet me today? It's important.

My heart stops. Marcus has my number from company events, but he's never texted me directly before. Whatever this is about, it must be serious.

Claire notices my face. "What is it?"

I show her the phone, and her eyes go wide.

"You have to meet him," she says. "You need to know what's going on."

I stare at the message, my hands trembling. Part of me wants to ignore it, to go home and pretend everything is fine. But I know Claire is right.

When and where? I text back.

The response comes immediately. Golden Gate Park, near the Japanese Tea Garden. 2 PM?

I check the time. That gives me three hours. Three hours to prepare myself for whatever truth is waiting.

I'll be there.