“Just wanted to talk to you. You better not hang up,” he says, his voice smooth, like he hasn’t ruined lives. “Just wanted to see how my favorite girl is doing.”
I want to throw the phone against the brick wall. I want to scream. But a primal, icy fear seizes my throat, paralyzing me.
I turn to Norah. She’s looking at her phone, giggling softly at a TikTok video, completely unaware of the war happening in my head.
“I have to take this,” I manage to choke out, the words feeling like stones in my mouth. “It’s Stella.”
Norah nods distractedly, waving a hand without looking up. “Take your time.”
I stumble toward the back door, my movements jerky and unnatural. I push through the heavy steel door, stepping into the alleyway behind the shop.
It’s colder out here, damp and smelling of wet pavement and garbage bins. I lean against the rough brick, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
“You are not allowed to call me,” I hiss into the phone, my voice trembling despite my effort to sound strong. “I have a restraining order against you, Luke. This is a violation.”
“Relax, Amber. I’m nowhere near you,” he says, and I can hear the smirk in his tone. “I just wanted to let you know. I’m expecting a son.”
The words hit me like a physical blow to the chest. The air leaves my lungs, and my hands shake so violently I almost drop the phone.
“A son,” I repeat, the sound hollow.
“Yeah. Me and Jessica. She’s due in July. It’s a boy. Healthy. Strong.”
Less than a year. It’s been less than a year since I lost our baby. Since I was in that hospital bed, bleeding and alone, while he was out drinking.
And he’s already moved on. He’s already replacing what we lost.
“Congratulations,” I whisper, the word tasting like ash in my mouth.
“See? That wasn’t so hard,” he grunts. “I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t the one with the problem, Amber. You were the problem. You were the one who was too broken to handle a family. Look at me now. I’m happy. I’m going to be a father.”
“You broke my wrist,” I say, tears stinging my eyes, blurring my vision. “You broke me.”
“You were clumsy,” he snaps, the mask slipping. “You were always so dramatic. Don’t contact me again. I’ve moved on. You should try doing the same instead of playing victim in that hick town you’re hiding in.”
The line goes dead.
I stand there in the alley, the phone still pressed to my ear. I try to suck in a breath, but my chest feels like it’s caved in. He’s having a baby. He’s happy. He told me I was the problem.
I wipe at my cheeks with the back of my hand, furious at the wetness I find there. I will not cry. I will not give him the satisfaction. I am not that girl anymore. I have a phoenix on my wrist. I have a daughter who needs me.
I force my breathing to slow, counting the inhales and exhales. One, two, three. The rain scent fades slightly, replaced by the damp smell of the alley.
I straighten my spine, pushing off the wall. I can do this. I just have to get through the next five minutes.
I open the back door and step inside. The warmth of the shop envelops me, but it feels suffocating now.
Norah is still on the stool, but she has her phone to her ear, laughing. “No, Wren, you’re kidding! He did what with the spatula?”
She’s talking to Wren. Of course she is. They are best friends, bonded by pregnancies and new life and perfect, happy pack dynamics.
I stand there for a second, invisible, watching her. My chest aches, a throbbing pain that has nothing to do with the cold.
I could call Stella. She would answer. She would curse Luke’s name and threaten to fly back here to castrate him.
But what would I tell her? That my ex is having a baby with someone else? That hurts, yes, but isn’t this what I wanted?
I wanted him gone. I wanted him to leave me alone forever. I wanted him to move on to someone else so he would stop terrorizing me.
