"Shh, don't talk. You need to rest."
"I already cleared my schedule. I'm not leaving your side."
A happy little family of three, warm and cozy. The sight burned behind my eyes like acid.
I clenched my fists so hard my fingernails turned my fingertips white. It was the only thing keeping me sane.
Olivia had just come out of surgery, and I'd only just transferred to this hospital. This wasn't the time or the place to rip the curtain away.
I walked back to the on-call room. The phone in my pocket buzzed.
I swiped to answer. Maxwell's voice poured through the speaker.
"Sapphire, something urgent came up at the office. I probably won't make it home for a while."
My chest was a furnace of rage and a thousand unasked questions.
But when the words rose to my lips, the devastation crushing my body and soul snuffed out every last desire to speak.
My silence gave Maxwell the wrong idea. He must have thought I was sulking, because he kept talking, his tone coaxing and sweet.
"Be good, okay? Once things settle down here, I promise I'll carve out time for our honeymoon trip..."
"Maxwell..."
Before he could finish, Olivia's voice drifted through the phone, calling his name. Then came the thin, sharp wail of a newborn.
"Gotta go!"
He hung up in a fumbling panic.
Too much had happened in a single day.
The sheer absurdity of it all churned in my stomach. I barely made it to the bathroom before I was doubled over the toilet, retching until the world went dark at the edges.
Half-conscious, I dialed a number.
"Mail me the marriage certificate from the study cabinet."
"And tell Dad that Maxwell's been cheating. I want every cent of funding pulled. Starting now."
According to the rotation schedule, the next set of rounds was mine.
I forced myself upright and picked up the patient chart.
Standing at the doorway, I looked through the glass. Maxwell and Olivia were squeezed together on a narrow hospital bed. He had his arm around her, one hand patting her back in slow, gentle circles. The bruise-dark shadows under his eyes told me he'd been up all night.
Even though every last shred of feeling had already died, the bitterness still seeped through, unstoppable.
My knock made Maxwell's eyes snap open.
I pulled my surgical mask into place and pushed through the door.
It was a hospital room, but someone had made it feel like a home. The table was piled high with supplies for a new mother and baby, everything from the biggest items down to the smallest. Every single one of them had been chosen based on my personal recommendations.
The night before he left on his "business trip," Maxwell had shaken me awake in the middle of the night.
"Sapphire, you're an OB-GYN. Can you tell me what someone needs to prepare for having a baby?"
I'd squinted at him, half-asleep and confused.
"Why are you suddenly asking about that?"
He'd stammered through some excuse about a coworker whose wife was about to deliver, begging him to ask me for advice.
I'd just finished a thirty-six-hour shift. I was so exhausted I could barely form a coherent thought.
Then Maxwell sat up, flipped on every light in the apartment, and dragged me out of bed.
"Sapphire, write it all down. Quick."
He shoved a pen into my hand. Then he pinched the soft, tender skin on the inside of my arm and twisted, hard.
The searing pain jolted me awake instantly.
I worked on that list until dawn broke through the windows.
Before he left, he tucked it carefully into the inner pocket of his jacket, handling it like something precious. He walked out the door without so much as a thank you.
I buried every emotion behind my eyes and stepped up to the bed for the routine check-in.
"How are you feeling today?"
Olivia clung to Maxwell's hand, her voice feather-soft.
