After the Miscarriage, She Walked Away

The boy I grew up with, my husband, brought another woman into our home.

Her voice was soft and coaxing.

"Mr. Stephens, your wife really is blind. So we don't even have to close the door, do we?"

Brent Stephens's voice was indulgent. "That's right. No need to close it."

Then he brushed right past me and walked into the guest room.

I lost myself and tried to follow, but my foot slipped and I crashed to the floor.

Pain tore through my belly all at once, and I couldn't move.

All I could do was demand, half-hysterical, "Why are you doing this to me?"