03
He pulled open the passenger door, and the moment I slid in, a sweet scent hit me.
Gardenia. Amber's usual perfume.
A pair of matching luck-bead charms hung from the mirror. I'd never seen them before.
The passenger seat had been adjusted too, so cramped I could barely fit.
Clearly Amber had ridden in this car far more often than I had.
My whole body was resisting it, but it was already past midnight, and I had no money left for a cab.
The car pulled out through the hospital gates.
I took out my phone and saw the offer from Patrick sitting in my inbox.
Same position. Seven-figure salary.
The car was silent.
Then his phone rang, cutting through it.
The dashboard lit up, and I caught two words: "Amber, sweetie."
He swiped it away fast.
Took the call on his phone instead. "Mm? Go ahead."
His voice carried a tenderness that had never once been mine.
I couldn't hear what she said on the other end. Probably some cooing.
The corner of his mouth curved up, and he laughed a little. "Stop it, I'm driving."
She said something else, and his smile vanished.
He hung up and pulled the car over to the curb.
"Something urgent came up at work." His tone was flat. "You get out here."
"Amber's looking for you?"
"Trudy, it really is an emergency at the office."
He turned to look at me, like it pained him.
"I have to head over right now. You can grab a cab home, right?"
"Amber calls, and off you go.
I'm running a fever of a hundred and four, and you won't take me to the doctor.
It's raining, and you're dumping me on the side of the road?"
His face went dark.
"Trudy, that's enough."
His voice shot up all at once, his color livid.
"I told you it's work.
You don't have a job, so you don't know how hard money is to make?
If I don't work, you and the kid both starve, is that it?"
I looked at the twisted expression on his face.
The "I'll provide for you" from back then had become "you're mine to feed" now.
"You're the one who told me to quit."
I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms, and felt no pain at all.
"Right, I told you to quit."
He let out a cold laugh.
"I told you to quit so you could take care of our son. Did you take care of him?
He's still at home crying right now.
You don't even have any milk for him,
you spend all day pointlessly jealous over Amber,
money's not your worry anymore, so what more do you have to complain about?"
I just looked at him.
Then, as if something clicked, he sent me another twenty dollars.
"That's for your cab fare. Now go."
He waved a hand and shooed me out of the car.
When it came to a doctor for me, he wouldn't part with a cent.
In a rush to see Amber, though, he could suddenly afford the fare.
As he swung the car around and passed me,
he leaned his head out the window again. "Text me when you get home."
I didn't answer.
Back at the house, it was strangely quiet.
I went in and eased open the door of the master bedroom.
Empty.
A bad feeling rose in me.
I spun around and hurried to the second bedroom.
A thread of crying came from a corner of the room.
I followed the sound. The baby was on the floor.
He'd tumbled out of the crib, wrapped in a thin blanket, dropped onto the ground.
He'd cried until his voice cracked, the sound coming in broken gasps.
To go see Amber, Bruce had actually left our not-yet-two-month-old baby alone in the room.
