Chapter 2

Ethan rushed into my hospital room hours later.

His hair was messy, his suit rumpled. He looked frantic.

"Ava! Oh my god, Ava, are you okay? The baby?"

He knelt by my bed, grabbing my hand. His was cold.

"We're okay," I managed. My voice was hoarse. "Surgery went well."

He buried his face in my hand. "I was so worried. I got the first flight out of Chicago."

Chicago. The photo was from New Orleans.

The image burned in my mind: Ethan, Olivia, the ring.

I wanted to scream, to demand an explanation.

But the words wouldn't come. I was too tired, too sore. And a cold dread was seeping into me.

He showered me with concern, fussing over my pillows, calling the nurse for more pain medication.

He seemed genuinely relieved that I and the baby were safe. He kept touching my small belly gently.

"My two girls," he whispered, his eyes glistening. "My whole world."

Was it an act? Or was the photo a misunderstanding? A cruel prank?

I didn't ask. I couldn't.

I just watched him, this man I thought I knew.

A quiet, cold resignation settled over me.

A few days later, I was discharged.

Ethan was a model of devotion, helping me into the car, settling me on the couch at home with blankets and tea.

The gossip blog had taken the photo down, citing "unverified sources." But I had the screenshot.

I needed to be smart.

That evening, I printed out some papers.

Divorce forms. A medical consent form for a D&C procedure.

I found a set of "romantic coupons" I' d made for him years ago – "Good for one back rub," "Good for one home-cooked meal."

I clipped the legal documents to the back of the coupon booklet.

"Ethan, honey," I said, trying to sound playful. "I found these old coupons. I was thinking, since I' m laid up, you could redeem a few by signing them? As a promise?"

He was on a call, something about a new development. He waved me over, still talking business.

"Sure, baby, whatever you want." He smiled, distracted.

He took the pen, flipped to the last "coupon" which was actually the signature page for the D&C consent, scrawled his name, then did the same for the divorce papers I' d disguised as a "pledge of eternal love."

He didn't even glance at what he was signing.

"There you go," he said, handing the booklet back, already turning his attention back to his phone call. "Love you."

"Love you too," I whispered. The words felt like ash in my mouth.