For the past few days, Santino had been coming home early.
Maybe he wanted to make up for the "misunderstanding" at the police station, because he was acting like the perfect husband.
During my prenatal checkup, the doctor said I was showing signs of prenatal depression and suggested that my husband spend more time with me.
Santino agreed on the spot and said he would take me out for dinner.
I booked his favorite hidden gem.
It was the place where we had first fallen for each other.
I even pulled out that old red dress.
It was the one I bought before I got pregnant, which had been loose back then, but now it stretched tight around my body.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
My belly was huge, my limbs swollen, faint spots across my face.
But I still put on light makeup and lipstick, trying to find a trace of the old me.
When Santino came home and saw me all dressed up, he froze for a moment.
A flicker of surprise, maybe even admiration, crossed his eyes.
He walked over, his voice unusually gentle, and even reached out to smooth my hair.
"Baby, you look beautiful tonight. I'll keep you company, I promise. Phone off. No one's getting in the way."
For a second, something in my chest sparked back to life.
Maybe he really did love me.
Maybe Baylee Ford really was just a passing mistake.
The waiter served the dishes, all my favorites.
Santino peeled shrimp for me, his movements practiced and familiar, just like the last three years.
The atmosphere was perfect.
I was just about to bring up baby names…
Then a harsh ringtone shattered everything.
He looked at me instinctively, his hands freezing mid-motion.
I didn't say anything. I just watched him.
He hesitated, then answered.
"Hello?"
On the other end, Baylee's voice trembled with tears. "Mr. Douglas… sob… I'm stuck in the elevator at my apartment… All the lights went out… I'm scared of the dark… the elevator is shaking… I'm really scared… I called property management but no one picked up… I didn't know who else to call… you're the only number I remembered…"
Santino's expression changed instantly.
"Baylee, don't be scared! Breathe! Hit the emergency button! What floor are you on? I'm coming right now!"
I sat there holding the shrimp he had been peeling.
I looked at him and asked softly, "Do you really have to go? You can call 911 for her. Santino… tonight is our date. You said you'd only be with me."
His hand stalled halfway into his coat.
He looked at me—guilt flashed in his eyes, but it quickly hardened into self-righteousness.
"Charlie, how can you be so cold?" This is life-and-death! That's an old building—its elevator breaks all the time. What if it falls? You're an adult. You can take care of yourself. You eat first. I've already paid the bill. Be good, don't make a fuss. I'll be home after I deal with this."
And with that, he walked out.
His steps were hurried. He didn't look back. Not even once.
Not even when it started pouring outside.
Not even though I was heavily pregnant.
Not even though I had just given him a chance to stay.
I watched the rain get heavier, watched the glow of his taillights disappear into the downpour.
The light in my heart went out.
I was too strong now, too independent—and I knew him too well.
I didn't need saving.
So he chose to save the counterfeit version of the "old me."
I walked out of the restaurant alone.
Rain came down hard, the wind slapping droplets across my face like needles.
I stood beneath the awning, staring at the neon lights of the city.
I thought, it was time to wake up.
