Chapter 8: The Heartbreak Phone Call

“The son looks just like me. Ashley is very sensible, never fighting for anything. She said she’d be content just giving me a child.” He pulled out his phone, and I glimpsed his lock screen—a baby’s face, wrinkled and red, but with Michael’s nose.

“I want to watch him grow up, do you understand, Rachel?” He looked at me with those green eyes I’d once drowned in, now reflecting a stranger.

Every word hurt more. The pain was physical, radiating through my chest. Maybe it was a heart attack.

Tears poured out, my chest so tight I could barely breathe.

“Shut up... Michael Harrison...” My voice came out barely a whisper, hoarse and broken.

Michael sighed, still wanting to persuade me, when a video call came in. His phone lit up: Ashley with a heart emoji. When had he become the kind of man who used heart emojis?

He glanced at me, then walked to the balcony to answer. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I saw his reflection, watched his whole demeanor change.

His voice instantly softened:

“Getting ready to leave... I’ll be there soon... I miss our son too... You just gave birth and your body’s weak, get some rest. When you wake up, I’ll be there...”

He was cooing—cooing—in a voice I’d never heard in fifteen years.

Through the glass, I watched the tender smile on his face. The city lights behind him made him look like a stranger. Maybe I’d never really known him.

My body went cold. I pulled the sheets tighter, but the chill was inside me.

I once thought all his love belonged to me. Turns out, I was just one piece of many. The Chicago wind rattled the windows, and I shivered.

After hanging up, he moved even faster. He grabbed his keys, checked his hair, sprayed on cologne—when had he started keeping cologne in our bedroom?

I choked up, blocking the doorway, my bare feet freezing on the marble floor:

“If you go to her tonight, we’re getting divorced.”

He didn’t hear me at all, completely focused on texting the other woman. His thumbs flew, and I saw him add a kissing emoji before hitting send.

Only after did he look up and say:

“Honey, the anniversary gift is on the desk. Go to bed early, don’t wait up for me tonight.” He said it absently, already halfway out the door, already gone in every way that mattered.