e Pres

despair. When Dr. Perkins at the Atacama Large Millimeter/submillimeter Array confirmed my ac

g nausea. It was a stark reminder of how little true intimacy we shared, how easily the physical could be mistaken for the emotional.

eared out my study, packing only the essentials: my research notes, my most cherished books, a few faded photographs of my parents. Th

tly, thanks to Arlo' s signature on what he believed was a grant

pulled it out. On the cover, our names, embossed in gold, mocked me. Arlo & Corinne. The paper was stiff, the images inside

ope that was never real. With a detached sense of finality, I tore the album in half, then into smaller pieces. The soun

was dead. Long li

ismantling a life. I immersed myself in my work, in planning my new trajectory, leaving no room for thou

oicemail, but some instinct told me not to. "Corinne?" Arlo's voice, surprisingl

everything, controlled everything. My heart hammered against my ribs

expensive suit, his dark hair catching the light. He looked a little thinner, a little more tired, but no less

d, keeping my

ssenger door. There was no room for ar

iar scent of him, the faint lingering sweetne

ed, his voice low, as he pull

uth he already suspected. "Chile.

ed his lips. "Brielle said you'd probably just go back to your old life, you

ed. Brielle. A

s eyes focused on the road. "Going back to Ca

e in his gaze. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. He obvious

ak, then stopped. The silence stret

weary, but my mind was in overdrive. I was free. A

punctuated by sharp, debilitating waves. My aversion to certain foods became extreme-the smell of coffee made my

ich I had never once missed, suddenly seemed to mock me. A te

. Then three. The pink lines, stark and

o's child. My divorce, my fellowship, my carefully constructe

, dialing Arlo's number. My heart was pounding, a frantic d

ad set for Arlo years ago, suddenly chimed nearby. Not from

He was here. At the

re it connected. My breath caught in my throat

s voice, low and gentle. And a doctor' s voice. Concer

My mind reeled. Bri

k and fragile, drifted through the slightly ajar door. "Arl

it punched a hole through my chest, replied. "M

tumbled backward, knocking into a passing nurse' s cart. A c

" the nurse exc

een directed at me, now narrowed, sharp and cold. "Corinne? What are

a fever," I stammered, clutching my stomach, the

u look a bit green. Perhaps too much late-night stargazing? You know, you really should take better care of yourself. Especially now." She paused, a glint in

s, a nascent life. It was a mirror of my own secret, a crue

r of something-confusion? guil

you have that call with the Tokyo office in an hour. Corinne will understand." She whispered something in his ear, a possessive,

through me. He was hers. Completely. And the

sound, followed by Brielle' s sharp, "Arlo, no! The doctor said-" The elevator door

nt, the dream, the new life-it was all still there. But now, I wasn't just escaping a loveless marriage. I was escaping a betrayal so deep it th

with a desperate fear. I was alone. Utterly, terrifyi