Six Months Pregnant, Divorced, and Back for Revenge

I pushed open the master-bedroom bathroom door and saw them through the gap in the frosted glass—two pairs of legs, tangled beneath the water.

The girl could really hold her breath. She'd been under for a long time and still hadn't come up.

I kept my eyes straight ahead and set a document on the vanity counter.

"The family sign-off form for tomorrow's checkup. I need your signature."

He was leaning back against the rim of the tub, head tilted up, his Adam's apple jerking hard. Without so much as a glance, he reached out and signed.

Only then did he open his reddened eyes. "I thought you were staying at your family's house for a few days. Why are you back early?"

I picked up the document. "Came back for a change of clothes."

Before I left the bathroom, I glanced at the shadow shifting beneath the surface of the water.

"Let her come up for air."

His whole body went rigid.

He probably expected me to lose it the way I used to. Smash things, scream, cry, call in the family.

I just closed the door. "Too long underwater and people die."

He scrambled to his feet in the water and called after me. "What are you really doing back here?"

I didn't answer. I just reached behind me and locked the bedroom door.

He had no idea that the form he'd just signed wasn't for a prenatal checkup. It was a consent form for labor induction.

……

Bang.

Joel slammed the bathroom door from the inside hard enough to shake the walls.

"Pauline, have you lost your mind? Open this door!"

I stood on the other side, folded the original copy of the consent form, and slipped it into my bag.

Through the frosted glass I could see the two overlapping silhouettes had separated.

Lillian's saccharine voice drifted through the door.

"Joel, I think Pauline got the wrong idea. I was only teaching you how to hold your breath."

"The water's so cold—what if it hurts Lily's baby?"

Joel's tone shifted instantly, thick with worry and tenderness.

"Don't be scared, Lily. I'll have someone break this door down right now."

He turned and roared toward the door.

"Pauline! Lily is pregnant. If anything happens to her because of the cold, I swear I won't let you off!"

The corner of my mouth twitched. Absurd. Completely absurd.

Right. She was pregnant.

Joel's childhood sweetheart, back in the country less than three months, and already carrying his child.

Meanwhile the baby in my belly, already six months along, was nothing to him—just an inconvenience he'd rather not carry.

I ignored the pounding on the door and walked into the closet.

Pulled out my black suitcase.

Threw in a few things I wore often, no order, no care.

I'd barely zipped it shut when the housekeeper came rushing in with a spare key and got the bathroom door open.

Joel stormed out in a bathrobe, hair still dripping.

He crossed the room in a few strides, stopped in front of me, and raised his hand.

I didn't flinch. Didn't move. Just looked at him, cold.

His hand hung in the air, then slammed into the closet door beside me.

"Are you insane? You sneak back without a word just to lock us in the bathroom?"

Lillian followed him out.

She was wrapped in my silk robe.

The one Joel had brought back from his Paris trip last month, swearing he'd had it custom-made for me and only me.

She padded barefoot to my vanity.

Picked up my most expensive prenatal medication.

"Pauline, please don't be mad at Joel. It's all my fault."

She was still shaping the apology when her fingers opened.

A sharp crack.

The glass bottle hit the floor and white pills scattered everywhere.

"Oops. Slippery fingers." She covered her mouth, eyes bright with open contempt.

Then she took a deliberate step forward.

Her bare foot came down on the pills.

And she twisted her sole into them, slow and hard.