My Husband Forgot Our Home, But Ran to Fix Hers

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When I got home, Desmond was leaning against the entryway, putting on his shoes.

He saw me push the door open, and his brow furrowed. "Where did you go? We agreed we'd have dinner at my mom's tonight. You didn't even pick up your phone. I've been waiting forever."

I changed into my slippers and said nothing.

He pressed again. "I'll go down and bring the car around. Hurry up."

Then he grabbed the car keys and left.

I stood in the entryway for a few seconds, put on a jacket, and went out after him anyway.

The moment I pulled open the car door, a cloying, sugary snack smell hit me in the face.

Half a bag of crushed potato chips lay scattered across the passenger seat, along with a few torn candy wrappers, and wedged into the crease of the seat was a sour candy pit that had fallen in at some point.

This was the third time this week.

I'd reminded him plenty of times before that the passenger seat wasn't Felicity's snack tray, and that she needed to clear away whatever she finished.

I stood outside the door and didn't move. "How many times have I told you? Take the trash out of the car and throw it away when you get out."

Desmond was starting the engine. He glanced over and swept the crumbs down under the seat with one hand, careless about it. "Fine, fine, I'll deal with it right now, okay? Just get in. Don't keep Mom waiting."

I looked at him, then bent down and got into the back seat.

When we reached his mother's, the security door was half open, and Felicity and Mrs. Abbott's laughter drifted out from inside.

She saw me come in and smiled sweetly. "You're here! Auntie asked me to come help. She said we'd have a full house tonight."

Mrs. Abbott sat at the table and waved me over. "Now that you're here, go set out the bowls and chopsticks. Fifi's been busy all afternoon. Let her rest."

"Oh, and there are a few cups in the kitchen sink that still need washing. Wash those first, then come eat."

I stepped past them into the kitchen.

The bowls and plates were stacked in the sink. I washed them one by one, dried them, put them away in the sterilizer, then took the porcelain plates from the cupboard and set them on the table. By the time all the dishes were out and the bowls and chopsticks were laid, and I came out carrying the last soup bowl, the table was already full.

Felicity sat beside Mrs. Abbott, who was placing barbecue ribs into her bowl. "Fifi, you're too thin. You really should eat more."

Desmond sat on Felicity's other side and, without a thought, moved the plate of salt-and-pepper shrimp she couldn't reach right in front of her.

Then he casually picked the ginger slivers out of her bowl and put them on his own plate.

The three of them talked and laughed, Mrs. Abbott patting the back of Felicity's hand as she told stories about her childhood.

Desmond listened with his head bowed, a doting smile at the corner of his mouth.

My place had been at the corner of the table the whole time, the chair pulled a little away from the edge.

The bowl and chopsticks were set out at the very edge, like a seat added in at the last minute.

I reached up, untied the apron, folded it, and left it on the kitchen counter, then turned and went out the door.

They probably wouldn't even notice that I'd suddenly left.

I took an Uber to the hospital.

After checking in, I went into the exam room. "Doctor, I need you to schedule me for the procedure. I want to end the pregnancy."