When they were done, they didn't linger. Just straightened and left, and the room went still.
I closed the laptop.
The office around me was dark, silent. So silent it felt like it was leaning in, listening.
God, we were supposed to be trying for a baby.
I’d sent him a photo of that stupid ovulation test this morning, heart stupidly full, and he’d hearted it. Like that red emoji meant anything. Like he cared. Like he hadn’t already done… that.
My phone buzzed on the desk and I picked it up. Matt.
You leaving the clinic soon? Can't wait to see you.
The world snapped back into focus.
I found a flash drive in the drawer, plugged it in, and copied every single file. Then I grabbed my coat, my purse, my keys.
I locked the clinic door behind me and got in my car.
He wanted to see me?
Fine.
I couldn't wait to see him either.
CHAPTER 3: ELENA
Idrove on autopilot, taking the route home I'd driven a thousand times before. Past the gas station where Matt always stopped for coffee on Sunday mornings. Past the Italian place where we'd celebrated our first anniversary. Past the dry cleaner that never got his uniform shirts quite right.
The flash drive felt heavy in my coat pocket.
Matt was waiting for me. Probably sitting on the couch with his boots off and his tie loosened, waiting for me the way he always did after a shift. I'd walk in, and he'd smile that tired smile, and he'd ask about my day, and I'd?—
The light turned red at Harper and Fifth.
I stopped, stared at the intersection.
Angela lived three blocks east. Just three blocks and I could get answers before I had to look at Matt’s face and pretend I didn't know.
The light turned green, and I turned right instead of going straight.
Angela's place, a renovated brownstone apartment she and Bryan had bought three years ago, wasn't far. I'd been there for the housewarming, had watched him spin her around thekitchen while she laughed, had thought they're going to be happy there. Bryan was good like that. He was steady. The kind of man who remembered anniversaries and fixed things before they broke and looked at his wife like she’d personally invented happiness and refused to patent it.
The Audi was in her usual spot, parked crooked like she'd been in a hurry. Or drunk. Probably both.
I pulled in beside it and killed the engine.
My hands were steady on the steering wheel. That scared me more than the shaking would have. I should be falling apart right now. I should be crying or screaming or doing something other than sitting here with this cold, clear certainty settling into my bones.
But something fundamental had gone quiet inside me, and the silence felt like resolve. I was someone else now, and this person got out of the car and walked to the entrance. Pressed the buzzer for 3B and waited.
No answer.
I pressed it again, holding it down this time, letting it blare through her apartment.
The intercom crackled. "Jesus Christ, what?—"
"It's me," I said. "Let me up."
