Chapter 3

He didn't answer. Not really.

I asked him once why he kept running to Simone. He sighed, like I was being unreasonable. "She's raising a kid alone. What's wrong with helping out?"

I let it go.

The next time, he didn't bother explaining. "You grew up with everything. You have no idea what struggle looks like."

I stopped asking.

Then came the insults. "What do you even do all day besides spend my money? I'm out there killing myself, and I come home to complaints."

I learned to stay quiet.

And then he turned on Rosie. "What's wrong with her lately? She's acting out. Is that something you taught her?"

After that, we stopped waiting for him to come home.

When he did, it only meant fighting. Rosie got quieter. Her preschool teacher pulled me aside, asked if everything was okay at home.

I didn't know what to say.

The day I decided to leave, I found out I was pregnant.

Two lines on the test. I stared at them, trying to remember what hope felt like.

I wanted to surprise him. Wanted to see his face light up the way it did when I told him about Rosie.

I called his office. He said he was buried in work, couldn't talk.

So I went there myself.

The receptionist looked confused. "Mr. Mercer left hours ago. Something about Ms. Hartwell feeling unwell."

I drove to Simone's place. The door wasn't fully closed.

She was on the couch, gripping Kieran's hand, head against his shoulder. Crying.

"I'm so scared... the doctor said it could be a tumor..."

She noticed me first.

For just a second, I saw it—a flash of victory in her eyes—before her face crumpled into panic.

"Wren... I didn't mean to call him, I was just so terrified..."

I looked at Kieran. "You told me you were working."

He dropped her hand, irritated. "She might be dying. Can you not do this right now?"

I pulled the test from my purse.

"I'm pregnant. I wanted to surprise you."

Silence.

Simone buried her face in her hands. "This is all my fault... I shouldn't have bothered him... I can handle this on my own..."

Kieran's voice went cold. "I made a promise to my sister. Why do you always make me choose?"

The test slipped from my fingers and hit the floor.

I glanced at Simone. Tears running down her cheeks, but underneath—her eyes were gleaming.

I didn't have the energy to care anymore.

"I want a divorce."

He laughed. Short. Harsh.

"God, Wren. Not everything is about you. Maybe if you actually did something with your life instead of sitting around waiting for me, you wouldn't have time to make up problems."

I didn't respond.

I turned around and left.

That night, I sat in the living room and watched the sky go from black to gray.

Rosie woke up crying, tugging at my sleeve. That's when I saw the blood pooling beneath me.

The baby came quietly. And left the same way.

A week later, the divorce was done. I got custody of Rosie. Nothing else.

Then my father's business partner vanished—along with every penny. Dad scrambled to pay back investors, borrowed from anyone who would listen. Three months later, he had a stroke in his office. By the time they reached the hospital, he was gone.

I used what was left to settle his debts.

Jobs didn't last. I ended up at weekend flea markets, selling whatever I could make by hand.

Rosie never complained. Somehow, that made it worse.

Some nights I woke up sobbing, convinced I had ruined her life.

But not this time.

I wasn't going to beg for his attention anymore. Wasn't going to fight, or cry, or try to prove I mattered.

Rosie deserved better than that.

If the price was pretending not to care—I could keep pretending forever.

That day at the boutique, Kieran left without a word.

He didn't come back for three days.

Rosie started at a new preschool. I finally had room to breathe.

A while back, someone at the flea market filmed the hair clips I made for Rosie and posted it online. It blew up overnight. My DMs were flooded—people asking where to buy them, how to make them.

Back then I was working odd jobs just to get by. Couldn't keep up.

Now I could.

I bought a ring light, a tripod, some cheap supplies. Started filming short videos—simple DIY stuff for kids, things any mom could make at home.

Kieran came back on the third night.

I was editing a video when the door opened.

Before, I'd be waiting up for him. Lights on, food warm, asking how his day went.

Now I just looked up. "You're back."

He stood there. "You didn't wait?"

I paused. "I didn't think you were coming."

He didn't say anything.

I got up. "I'll heat something up."

The fridge was almost empty. I used to stock it with all his favorites, even when he never showed.

Now I'd forgotten to buy groceries.

I made a mental note: shopping tomorrow.

After he ate, he stayed on the couch instead of hiding in his study.

I was doing dishes when he spoke.

"You're not going to ask where I've been?"

The old me would've interrogated him. Gone through his phone. Spiraled for days over the smallest thing. Lost sleep for days.

"You've got your own things."

He watched me for a long moment. "Thought you'd be mad."

I used to blow up his phone if he was half an hour late. Message after message, scared he'd forget I was home.

"Would being mad help?" I dried my hands. "Want some water?"

He didn't answer.

I felt his eyes on me. Didn't turn around.

He followed me to the living room later. Noticed the equipment in the corner.

"What's all this? Need connections? I know people—"

"I'm good. Want to do it myself."

"Let me at least find you a studio. It's cramped here."

"Really. I'm fine. Thanks."

His hand stopped over the fruit bowl. "We're married. You don't have to be so formal."

I smiled and said nothing.

His phone rang. The screen said Simone.

He looked at me, then picked up.

I went to the balcony to get the laundry.

"Simone needs me for something..."

I handed him his jacket. "Go."

He looked at me, searching for something. "I'll be right back."

The door clicked shut.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed.

The preschool.

"Mrs. Mercer? Rosie fell near the pool—"

My heart stopped.

Rosie was terrified of water. She couldn't swim.

I don't remember driving. Just the hospital lights, the smell of disinfectant, and Rosie's face—so pale against the pillow.

Her arm was in a cast. She'd choked on water. Nearly drowned.

The teacher stood to the side, fidgeting. "There was... a conflict with another child. We're waiting for their parents."

The door opened.

Simone. Hailey.

And Kieran.