He Traded Our Babies for Her Artificial Womb

Seeing my silence, Clayton didn’t press further. He went into the kitchen and emptied the stew from the pot. It was a stew I had gotten up at five in the morning to prepare for him, and he hadn't touched a single spoonful.

"I need the pot for some pulled pork I'm making for Talia. Your stew is in the way," he said, his tone cold.

It was clear that this was his way of expressing his dissatisfaction with me, but I had no clue what I had done to upset him. If I used to argue back, he’d accuse me of being defiant. Now that I don't argue, he still gets angry. It’s both laughable and draining.

Without another word, I made my way to the master bedroom. I picked up my phone and reached out to Ryatt Lawrence, my editor at the newspaper. I applied for an assignment to do fieldwork in a conflict zone. Although I had always worked domestically, my dream was to report from countries experiencing turmoil.

Previously, I stayed because of Clayton, but now I've completely let go of him. After seven years together, Talia was always between us, keeping us apart. Now, I've decided to move on.