Don't Leave Me Behind

Three months pregnant, I was throwing up so much I ended up dehydrated.

And every day, my husband, Julian, would rest his hand on my belly and say, "When the baby grows up, I hope they're like Aunt Sienna. Smart, free, brave enough to see the world on their own."

Then, at a prenatal checkup, I started hemorrhaging and was rushed into surgery.

I called him twice, begging for help.

The first time, he said I was being a nuisance and hung up.

The second time, he laughed coldly. "You'd lie about losing the baby just to drag me away from Sienna's celebration? That's sick."

The day I was discharged, I left the signed divorce papers on the table and flew to Norway alone.

He thought I was just throwing a tantrum. He was sure I'd be sitting in the apartment, waiting obediently for him to come home.

Until he called the building's management office.

The manager told him, "Sir, there's no one home. There's just a signed divorce agreement on the table."

————

When Julian set his phone face down on the table, there was still a smile on his lips he hadn't managed to wipe away.

It was the smile he wore after texting Sienna.

Easy, familiar, like someone had flipped a switch only the two of them knew about.

Then he turned to me and spoke in the tone you'd use to soothe a sulking child.

"Don't tell me you're jealous, Nora. That's so boring."

"Then what do you think isn't boring?"

He actually thought about it.

The answer he finally settled on was meant to be generous. "You're steady. I don't have to worry about the house when it's in your hands."

He said it so easily, like a manager placing an employee of limited ability in a suitable role.

It was that ease that slowly cooled whatever warmth was left in my heart.

His phone lit up again.

In the group chat the three of us shared, Sienna said her Antarctica trip had wrapped up early and she'd be home tonight.

Julian replied almost instantly: Come over for dinner. Welcome home.

Only after he hit send did he remember I was sitting right there.

"She's been gone over a month. She must be sick of cold sandwiches and salads. Make a few of her favorites tonight, and roast a chicken. You're good at that."

My stomach lurched.

Since I'd gotten pregnant, the smell of cooking oil was like a thin needle that could make me throw up at any moment.

For a month, I'd barely slept through the night or eaten a proper meal.

"Can we go out to eat? I'm not feeling well today."

Half of Julian's smile disappeared.

"She was on a plane for over twenty hours and didn't complain once. You're only twelve weeks along. Why are you always either dizzy or nauseous? Even the doctor said you shouldn't lie around all the time. Doing a little housework is good for you."

Then he looked back down and went on texting Sienna.

That afternoon, I went into the kitchen anyway.

A wave of heat and grease hit me. I clapped a hand over my mouth, ran to the bathroom, and dropped to my knees by the toilet, retching.

My stomach was so empty it hurt, and the tears came before anything else did.

Julian walked past the door and paused for less than two seconds.

"Let's hope the baby isn't as fragile as you."

His phone rang right after that.

Sienna was downstairs.

He turned and left, tossing over his shoulder, "Rinse your mouth when you're done. Don't be a slob. I'm going down to get her."

The door shut. The only sound left in the kitchen was the hum of the oven.

I held on to the sink and pulled myself up, and suddenly I remembered the day I found out I was pregnant.

Julian had stared at the test results for a long time.

He was always so composed, but that day his eyes went red. He crouched down, pressed his cheek to my stomach, and said in a shaking voice, "Nora, quit your job at the bank. You leave early and come home late, and you're dealing with all those clients. I worry about you. From now on, just focus on the baby. I'll take care of you both."

I didn't want to give up the job I'd had for six years.

I worked in credit risk review. I had clients I'd been with for years, and new projects I'd just taken on.

But he said we'd only have this one baby, and I could always find another job. He said he would never let me be wronged in any way.

I believed him.

Less than two months after I quit, the way he talked about me had changed. I was the one who "just lies around all day and won't even make dinner." A dull, unambitious housewife who'd let herself go.