part 1
“This is enough for the bus. Hurry up, my mother is already waiting for us for lunch.”
I stood frozen in front of the hospital’s exit plaza, my five-day-old baby pressed tightly against my chest. The raw ache from my C-section incised burned intensely, like a steady flame trapped beneath my skin.
For a fractured second, I thought I had misheard him.
Dominic Vance, my husband of two years, had just pressed a crumpled fifty-dollar bill and a few loose coins into my palm. He didn’t offer to carry the heavy diaper bag. He didn’t ask if I could manage the walk. He didn’t even glance down at Leo, our newborn son, who was wrapped securely in a soft white blanket.
“Dominic… what do you mean, the bus?” I asked, my voice cracking under the weight of the humid afternoon air. “I was just discharged. I can barely take a full step without agony.”
He let out a sharp, irritated sigh, rolling his eyes as if my physical trauma were merely a theatrical performance.
“Don’t start, Audrey. My sister was up and moving three days after giving birth, and she didn’t make half the drama you are. Besides, it’s not rush hour. You’ll easily find a seat.”
Directly behind him, parked under the gleaming glass canopy of the private Upper East Side hospital, sat the sleek, black custom SUV that my father had gifted me before our wedding. Dominic drove it nearly every day, routinely claiming it “projected the correct executive image” to close rounds with venture capitalists.
I had envisioned an entirely different homecoming. I thought Dominic would open the door for me, carefully help me adjust the seat, and offer a simple, decent sentence like, “You did incredibly well.” Something minimal. Something human.
Instead, he turned his back and walked toward the curb.
“And what about the SUV?” I asked, the chilling breeze cutting straight to my bones.
Dominic gestured toward the parking garage with a sharp flick of his chin. “I require the vehicle. My parents and Natalie are flying in this afternoon. I already secured a premium reservation at Carbone. I’m not going to cancel a critical family lunch just because you want to act fragile.”
I stared at him, completely stripped of my ability to draw oxygen.
Right then, the rest of the Vance family materialized from the lobby—my mother-in-law, Victoria, my father-in-law, Arthur, and his sister, Natalie. They arrived laughing loudly, impeccably dressed, heavily perfumed, acting as if they were simply embarking on a standard Sunday brunch. Natalie brushed right past me, caught a brief glimpse of the baby, and barely raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, brilliant, you’re finally out. Dominic, let’s move, or we’ll miss our seating block.”
Nobody inquired about my health. Nobody asked if little Leo required a single thing.
Dominic aggressively snatched the small diaper bag from the discharge nurse’s hands, tossed it carelessly into the rear passenger seat of the SUV, and turned back to issue his final directive to me.
May you like
“There’s leftover rice in the fridge from last night. Microwave that for yourself. And do not constantly call my terminal, because I will be completely checked out with my family.”
I felt the hard edges of the coins dig deep into my palm. A primal part of me wanted to shriek, to weep, to beg someone in that bustling plaza to defend my dignity. But Leo made a tiny, soft sound in his sleep, and I simply tightened my arms around him, protecting his peace.
The black SUV pulled away from the curb. Through the heavily tinted windows, I could see Dominic smiling widely while Natalie animatedly recounted a story from the front passenger seat. That relaxed, complicit smile was an expression I hadn’t received from him in months.
