It was eleven at night when I heard the front door open.
Joe paused mid-step when he saw me still sitting on the couch. “Why are you still up? I told you to get some rest.”
He walked over, and a faint trace of perfume drifted with him.
Not his usual woody cologne. Something sweet, cloying, soft. A woman's floral fragrance.
My stomach cramped again.
“Stomach acting up again?” Joe frowned and reached for my forehead.
I turned my head, dodging his hand without making it obvious. “I'm fine. Had some warm water. Feeling better.”
My voice was too flat. Flat enough that Joe's hand froze in midair and a flicker of surprise crossed his face.
Before all this, I would have leaned into his shoulder and whined about my stomach hurting too much to sleep, waiting for him to comfort me.
But now the smell of another woman clung to him, and even breathing the same air made me sick.
“Sunny asleep?” Joe pulled his hand back and loosened his tie like nothing had happened.
“Yeah.” I watched how composed he looked, and something inside me almost laughed.
He must have checked himself over before coming home. Scanned for lipstick stains, stray hairs, even smoothed the creases in his collar.
Otherwise I wouldn't have been stupid enough to only find out now that Joe was cheating.
Lillian's belly looked four or five months along. Their little reunion had been going on for at least half a year.
Or maybe longer than I guessed.
“Was the hospital busy today? Long wait?” Joe asked casually while pouring himself a glass of water.
I stared at his back, keeping my voice light. “Not really. But I did see someone who looked a lot like you from behind.”
Joe's body went rigid. The glass stopped just short of his lips for a fraction of a second, a pause so brief most people would never have caught it.
But I'd spent three years pining for Joe Delgado and seven years living with him. I could read his guilt like a book.
“Someone you know?”
Joe turned around. His jaw was tight, and something guarded surfaced behind his eyes.
I lowered my gaze and fiddled with the remote on the coffee table.
“No idea who it was. He was holding a kid's hand, walking a woman into the OB-GYN wing.”
The air in the living room froze solid.
Joe's throat moved as he swallowed. “Oh, really? Are you accusing me of something?”
“I was at the office all day. Obviously wasn't me.”
I looked up and held his gaze, then let out a quiet laugh. ：“I never said it was you. Why so jumpy?”
The moment the words left my mouth, I pulled the papers I'd prepared from under the coffee table and slid them toward him.
Joe glanced down. A small crease formed between his brows.
“What's this?”
I leaned back into the couch, keeping my tone easy. “Prescription forms from the hospital. They need a family member's signature before they'll release the medication.”
The top sheet was a printout of my old medical records.
But underneath, at the very bottom, was the divorce agreement I'd already signed.
Joe took the stack. His eyes landed on the first page, the prescription form.
His fingers kept going, the pages whispering against each other, and the corner of the second sheet peeked out.
My heartbeat spiked. I gripped the remote tighter without realizing it.
In that moment, I couldn't tell whether I wanted him to sign without looking or discover that I wanted out.
But just as Joe was about to reach the last page, a tiny voice called out from the top of the stairs.
“Daddy!”
