Chapter 2: Nobody Doesn't Get Called Sweetheart
He didn't answer right away.
He just stood there, phone pressed against his chest, looking at me like I was the problem.
"It was nobody."
"Nobody doesn't get called sweetheart."
He set the phone face-down on the washing machine and ran a hand through his hair.
"You're sleep-deprived.
You're hearing things."
I almost laughed.
"I heard every word.
Same time tomorrow.
Sweetheart."
He looked away.
"It's not what you think."
"Then tell me what it is."
Silence.
That's when I picked up his phone.
He moved fast — faster than I'd seen him move in months — and grabbed my wrist before I could unlock it.
"Don't."
Just that one word.
Don't.
Not "let me explain." Not "you're wrong." Just — don't.
I pulled my hand back and stared at him.
And that's when I remembered something his mother had said the very first time I overheard them.
Not the daycare.
Not the childcare arrangement.
The other part.
*"You told me it was over."*
Over.
As in — it had happened before.
I felt the floor shift under me.
"How long?" I asked.
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
May you like
Then the baby started crying upstairs.
And he actually looked relieved.
