The One-Way Ticket He Never Saw Coming

I opened my mouth and bit into the berry. Sweet. So sweet it turned bitter.

"Okay." I pulled a tissue and wiped the corner of my mouth.

Once he'd gone to shower, I picked up my phone. Opened the Vantage Airlines app, selected the eight a.m. flight to Southport on Thursday. Tapped through. Check-in confirmed.

The next morning, Silas left for the office.

I dug an old cardboard box out of the bottom of the closet and started packing. There wasn't much that belonged to me, really. This apartment was full of Sean's toys and the traces of a life Luna had left behind, everywhere I looked.

I sealed the box, arranged for a same-day courier, and sent it to my college friend Sapphire's place in Southport.

Then I opened the hospital app and transferred my records to Southport Women's & Children's Hospital.

At four in the afternoon, the lock turned. Silas had come home early.

He walked over to the couch, sat down, and out of habit rested his hand on my belly.

"Babe, I need to run something by you." There was a testing note in his voice.

I looked at him and said nothing.

"After we hear the heartbeat tomorrow, I might not be able to take you out for Japanese in the afternoon." He avoided my eyes. "Luna says it's her mom's birthday tomorrow. The old lady hasn't seen Sean in a long time and misses him terribly. I have to bring Sean and go back with her, sit down for a meal with her mom."

I took a sip of water and said calmly, "Fine."

Silas blinked. He cleared his throat and started explaining, unprompted.

"Luna doesn't have a choice either. Her mom raised her alone through all kinds of hardship, and now she's getting on in years, her health isn't good. It's such a small wish for the old lady. As the younger generation, we ought to go along with it. Besides, Sean misses his grandma."

Watching him scramble to justify himself, I found it almost absurd.

"Mm, whatever you arrange is fine." I set the water glass down and stood up. "What do you want for dinner tonight? I'll order in."

Silas got to his feet and hugged me from behind.

"Babe, you're so good to me. I knew you'd understand." He kissed the side of my face. "After I'm done with them in the afternoon, I'll come home early tonight and keep you company."

I let him hold me, my gaze drifting to the shoe cabinet by the entryway. Three pairs of slippers sat there. A men's pair, a child's pair, and a pink women's pair. Luna's.

Like an outsider, I studied this home I'd lived in for three years. Every piece of furniture, every inch of floor, told me in silence that I was only a temporary guest here.

The night grew late.

In the bedroom there was nothing left but the even sound of his breathing. Silas had his back to me, deep asleep.

I turned onto my side and, in the faint glow of the streetlight coming through the window, looked at his back. This face, this silhouette. I'd looked at them for three years. After tomorrow, I'd never have to look at them again.

I picked up my phone and booked a car to the airport for five in the morning.

At four thirty, without an alarm, I opened my eyes in the silence.

I slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to wake Silas sleeping beside me.

I went to the wardrobe and took out a kraft paper envelope.

Inside were my ID, my passport, my bank cards, and a divorce agreement I'd already signed.

I tucked the envelope into the tote bag I'd carry with me.

Passing the nursery, I stepped over and eased the door open.

By the light from the hallway, I saw the half-assembled natural-wood crib in the room. Last weekend, Silas had sat on the floor, chewing the cap of a pen while he studied the instructions and puzzled over where the screws went.

Beside the crib, a giraffe-shaped growth chart was stuck to the wall. Down at the very bottom, next to the zero mark, Silas had drawn a tiny sun in black marker, and beside it a single line of words: "Baby's first day."