The director's voice was warm on the other end of the line. "But you unde

t was exactly what I need

d for you," he promised. "Just

mething like hope cutting through th

drove straight

ugs on the counter. A framed photo of us on our wedding day on the mantelpiece, his arm wrapped tightly around

evulsion wa

bottom of the bag. The photo frame followed, the glass cracking. I tore every picture of us from its frame, ripped them into tiny pi

ragged them to the curb, a cleansi

rything that was mine. I arranged for a shipping company to pick them up a

't come hom

is briefcase and pulled me into an embrace, his arms wrapping around m

ent of a different woman's perfume on his shirt. Naus

"What's wrong, Ar

I said, my

re you sick? Let's go to the docto

," I said. "I

ries of gift-wrapped boxes from his briefc

bottle of perfume I would never wear. Ea

redness in my eyes. "What

eye, my voice hard. "I want a

n a mask of weary patience. "We've talked

right time for y

tiative. I'm under a lot of pressure

ready turning away. "I have to go." A lie. He kissed my forehead, a gesture t

he claimed was "for international business," lying on the coffee tab

fever is back. He keep

t was so intense it was a physical sensation, but it was overshadowed by a sudden, violent cramp in my s

g thought began t

ight. The next morning, I

the ultrasound screen. "Congratulations, Mrs. Thorne," she said, her