Then came a sound that nearly caused me to drive off the bridge—a rhythmic swooshing sound.
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.“Listen to that,” Monica cooed. “That’s your son’s heartbeat. Strong, unlike hers.”
They were at the OB-GYN appointment. The appointment Monica had told me she was going to alone because she was so scared and lonely. She had even asked me for money for the co-pay yesterday.
I was shaking so violently the car swerved slightly, earning a honk from a passing truck. I pulled over onto the wet shoulder of the highway, my hazard lights blinking in the gloom. I sat there, paralyzed, listening to my husband and my best friend kiss. I heard the wet, smacking sound of their lips, the murmur of affection I hadn’t received in years.
“I love you,” Richard whispered to her. “We just have to play the game a little longer. Use her money to pay for the birth. Let her buy the crib. Let her set up the nursery. And then we vanish.”
I stared at the dashboard. The call timer hit four minutes and twelve seconds. Then finally, the line went dead.
I sat in the silence of my car, the rain drumming against the roof like a funeral march. My entire life—my marriage, my friendship, my future—had just been dismantled in four minutes. They weren’t just cheating. They were planning to steal my family’s inheritance. They were mocking my infertility. They were going to let me build a nursery for a baby they planned to steal away.
I looked at my phone. A text popped up from Richard.
“Sorry, honey. Meeting ran late. Picking up dinner. Love you.”
And right below it, a text from Monica.
“Hey, Auntie Laura. Baby is kicking so much today. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”
I let out a scream that tore at my throat, a primal sound of pure agony. But as the scream faded, something else settled in my chest. It wasn’t just sadness. It was a cold, hard block of ice.
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