Chương 2
Dominic's expression tightened.
"I would never say that."
"You did not have to."
The apartment became silent.
Leo started crying from the bedroom.
I stood slowly before anyone else could move.
The pain returned immediately.
Dominic noticed.
For one brief moment, something like guilt crossed his face.
Then his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
Natalie.
He declined the call.
But the damage was already done.
My father saw.
I saw.
Dominic saw that we saw.
"I have work," he said.
I looked at him.
"Of course you do."
His shoulders dropped slightly.
"Aubrey..."
He had never mispronounced my name before.
Not once.
That small mistake told me more than an apology would have.
He was not focused on me anymore.
He was focused on controlling the situation.
"I am staying with my father tonight," I said.
Dominic stared at me.
"You are taking Leo?"
I looked at my son.
Then back at him.
"Yes."
His face changed.
Not sadness.
Fear.
For the first time, he understood that I was making a decision without asking for permission.
His face changed.
Not sadness.
Fear.
For the first time, he understood that I was making a decision without asking for permission.
Dominic stepped closer, lowering his voice as if my father were not sitting ten feet away.
"Aubrey, you cannot just take my son."
I hated that he made it sound like I was stealing something.
Like Leo was an object we could divide between us.
"My name is Audrey," I said.
The correction surprised him.
It was such a small thing, but it felt like the first piece of myself I had taken back.
Dominic rubbed his forehead.
"Fine.
Audrey.
You just had surgery.
You are exhausted.
You are angry.
Let's not make permanent decisions because you had a bad day."
A bad day.
That phrase stayed in my mind.
A bad day was spilling coffee on a shirt.
A bad day was missing a flight.
A bad day was arguing over dinner.
Being abandoned outside a hospital with a newborn son was not a bad day.
It was information.
"Dad," I said quietly, "can you give us a minute?"
My father's eyes moved between Dominic and me.
He did not like leaving.
I could see it.
But he nodded.
After he left, Dominic waited until the door closed.
Then his expression changed completely.
The careful husband disappeared.
"You are really doing this?"
I looked at him.
"I am going to my father's house."
"That is not what I meant."
I almost smiled.
Because he never asked what I meant either.
"I don't know what you mean anymore."
He looked away.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
The refrigerator hummed.
The baby monitor made a faint clicking sound.
Somewhere upstairs, a child laughed in another apartment.
Normal life continued around us.
That was the strange part.
The world did not stop because my marriage was falling apart.
"I made a mistake," Dominic finally said.
The words were quiet.
But they arrived too late.
"What mistake?"
His eyes lifted.
"The bus."
I waited.
He looked uncomfortable.
"I should have driven you home."
I stared at him.
Not because I expected a perfect apology.
Because I realized he still did not understand.
"The bus was not the problem, Dominic."
He swallowed.
"I know."
"No.
You don't."
I walked toward Leo's room slowly.
Every step reminded me that my body was still healing.
"You looked at me standing there with our baby and thought your lunch mattered more."
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
"You thought I would accept it because I always have."
"That is not fair."
The sentence came quickly.
Too quickly.
I turned around.
"See?"
He frowned.
"What?"
"You are defending yourself before you even understand why I am hurt."
His shoulders lowered.
For a moment, he looked tired.
Not angry.
Just tired.
"I have been under pressure too."
There it was.
The sentence I knew would come eventually.
I nodded.
"Yes."
He seemed surprised by my agreement.
"I know you have."
"Then why are you acting like I am the only one who failed?"
Because that was the truth about Dominic.
He was not a cartoon villain.
That would have been easier.
He was a man who worked hard, who loved certain things about me, who could be gentle when life was convenient.
But when pressure arrived, he protected himself first.
And I had spent years pretending that was not a choice.
"I built something," he said.
His voice became defensive.
"My company.
My future.
Everything depends on me."
I looked at him.
"And what did you think depended on me?"
He went quiet.
The question landed somewhere he did not expect.
"I was carrying our son," I said.
My voice stayed calm.
"I was recovering from surgery.
I was scared.
I was in pain."
I touched the edge of the crib.
"And somehow, you still found a way to make me feel like I was interrupting your life."
Dominic sat down on the chair near the kitchen island.
The confidence left his posture.
"I don't know how we got here."
I believed him.
That was the hardest part.
I believed he genuinely did not know.
People rarely noticed the damage they caused while they were busy explaining why they were justified.
My phone buzzed.
A message from my father's assistant appeared.
A temporary security arrangement has been confirmed.
A medical support nurse can arrive tonight if you need assistance.
I stared at the screen.
Dominic noticed.
"Your father is already moving people around?"
"Yes."
"You told him everything?"
"No."
He looked relieved for half a second.
Then I finished.
"I only told him what happened."
That relief vanished.
Because the truth was worse than an accusation.
An accusation could be argued.
A fact could not.
"I need space," I said.
Dominic stood.
"Audrey."
I looked at him.
"I love you."
The words hurt.
May you like
Because some part of me still wanted to believe them.
But love was not only what people felt.
