Chapter 2

"It' s nesting syndrome, Mark," I tried to explain, my voice trembling a little as I bent to pick up the scattered items. "It' s a normal part of pregnancy."

He scoffed. "Other pregnant women don' t try to bankrupt their husbands. They' re more considerate."

"Other pregnant women?"

The words hung in the air.

He meant Tiffany.

His childhood friend, Tiffany, also pregnant, recently "widowed." Her firefighter husband had supposedly died a hero.

Mark had been spending a lot of time with her.

Driving her to doctor' s appointments, comforting her during thunderstorms, always at her beck and call.

"She' s grieving, Sarah. She needs support," he' d said.

Now, his criticism felt like a direct comparison.

As if on cue, Tiffany appeared at the end of the aisle.

"Mark? Sarah? Is everything okay?"

She glided towards us, a picture of delicate concern.

Her perfume, a heavy floral scent, hit me, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I instinctively recoiled, stepping back.

As I did, Tiffany, who was a bit too close, stumbled dramatically.

"Oh!" she gasped, clutching her stomach.

Mark exploded.

He was by her side in an instant, his arm around her.

"Sarah! What the hell? Did you just push her? A pregnant woman?"

His face was contorted with rage.

"I… I didn' t push her," I stammered, horrified. "Her perfume… it made me feel sick."

"An apology, Sarah. Now. To Tiffany." His voice was dangerously low.

I looked from his furious face to Tiffany' s wide, innocent eyes.

This was insane.

"Mark, can' t you see what' s happening?" I pleaded, my voice rising despite myself. "You' re always taking her side! It' s always Tiffany, Tiffany, Tiffany!"

The words were out before I could stop them.

His hand moved so fast I barely saw it.

The slap echoed in the brightly lit aisle.

My cheek stung, my eyes watered.

Shoppers stared openly now.