Chapter 1 - The Second Slap
The first time Margaret slapped Emily while she was eight months pregnant, Daniel stood three feet away and watched.
The second time, Emily stopped waiting for him to become a husband.
Sunday morning sunlight filled the kitchen while Margaret held up a tiny blue onesie like it offended her.
“You folded this wrong.”
Emily stared at her. Her ankles were swollen, her lower back burned, and she had slept maybe two hours.
“It’s a onesie, Margaret.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed. “That tone.”
“I’m tired.”
“You’re always tired.”
“I’m thirty-six weeks pregnant.”
“Women have been giving birth since the beginning of time. Stop acting like you invented it.”
Emily turned away.
The slap came before she heard Margaret move.
Her head snapped sideways. Pain flashed across her cheek. Her body twisted, and a hard cramp seized her stomach.
She grabbed the edge of the table.
“Emily?” Daniel finally said.
For half a second, hope rose inside her.
Then Margaret snapped, “She turned her back on me while I was speaking.”
Daniel frowned at his wife. “You know Mom hates that.”
Emily looked at him.
Really looked.
At the man drinking coffee while his pregnant wife steadied herself against a table.
At the son who always found a reason for his mother.
At the husband who had turned cruelty into something Emily was expected to manage politely.
She pulled off her wedding ring.
Daniel’s face changed. “What are you doing?”
Emily placed the ring beside his coffee.
“I’m leaving.”
Margaret laughed. “With that stomach? Where exactly are you going?”
“Away from you.”
Daniel stood. “Emily, don’t start this.”
“I’m not starting anything.” She put both hands over her belly. “I’m ending it.”
His jaw hardened. “You can’t take my child and just disappear.”
“Our child has been listening to you defend the woman who hits his mother.”
The kitchen went silent.
Margaret stepped toward her. “You ungrateful little—”
Emily backed up. “Don’t touch me.”
Her voice did not shake this time.
She walked to the foyer, grabbed the suitcase she had packed the night before, and opened the front door.
Daniel followed her onto the porch.
“Emily. We can talk.”
“You had three years to talk.”
“You’re overreacting.”
She gave a broken laugh. “There it is.”
Rain had started falling. Emily moved toward her car.
Then another cramp hit.
Stronger.
She stopped beside the driver’s door and gasped.
Daniel took one step toward her.
Emily looked down.
A thin stream of water ran between her shoes.
May you like
Her water had broken.
And the baby was four weeks early.
