Enough.
"Did you sign the divorce papers?" My voice came out cold, steady. "Property settlement, asset disclosure, custody waiver—sign them and mail them to me."
"Ella," Lucas sighed. "If I never sign, you'll always be my wife. On paper."
I almost laughed. Furious.
So that was why he called. To confirm I was still pathetic in front of him. That I was still the woman he could control. That I'd come running the second he said the word, just like before.
"Lucas, you don't need a wife. You need a doormat."
I hung up. My whole body shook with rage. I wanted to cry again. Lucas could tap his screen and trigger a tidal wave inside me, just like that.
I blocked the number. Threw the phone aside.
I knew I wouldn't sleep tonight. So I unpacked. Stayed busy till late into the night, until my body was too exhausted to think, until I finally collapsed into unconsciousness.
In the mirror that morning, I scared myself. Dark circles like I'd been punched.
I caked on concealer and foundation, then went to the hospital to see Maya, same as every day.
Five days since we'd moved to Rochester. This city had the best kidney disease specialists in the country. All thanks to Joe's recommendation. Fresh out of med school, he'd come here full of ambition, landing a residency at this top-tier teaching hospital.
Because of Joe, Maya and I had managed to get our footing in this strange city.
Joe handled nearly everything that would've broken me. The medical records—thick as a dictionary. The endless paperwork. The insurance nightmare. If I'd done it all myself, I'd have lost weeks. But Joe was good. He moved effortlessly between billing, attending physicians, insurance reps. Solved problem after problem for me.
"He likes you," Maya said suddenly, propped up in her hospital bed.
"What?" I blinked.
"Count how many times we've run into him today."
I ran through it. He'd come to the room three or four times—checking on Maya, going over bills. Beyond that, he'd been in line behind me at the cafeteria. I'd seen him at the store when I was picking up supplies for Maya.
I shook my head, almost laughing at her conclusion. "The hospital's small. He's a resident. He has to rotate through departments. Of course he's everywhere."
"You think so?" Maya smiled, then started coughing.
I hurried to pour her water.
Maya was getting worse. Dialysis had increased from twice a week to three times, four hours each session. I tracked her fluid intake, monitored sodium and potassium, and checked her blood pressure. The doctor said she needed a kidney donor soon. Otherwise...
I couldn't think about it.
After the nurses' final rounds and kicked out the families, I left the hospital, dragging myself to the bus stop. Lights blazed in the buildings around me. Behind every window, a happy family.
Without thinking, I rested my hand on my stomach. Flat. Nothing to feel yet. But I knew a life was sleeping inside.
A black Toyota pulled up. The window rolled down. Joe's face appeared, gentle, clean-cut, wearing that soft smile.
"Get in, Ella."
I hesitated, then opened the door. Night buses took forever. A ride from Joe was easier.
He drove toward my apartment. He knew the address—he'd helped me move those heavy boxes while I was running between the hospital and apartment hunting.
The car was warm and clean. Soft instrumental music drifted from the speakers, wrapping around me like water. I leaned back in the seat. The exhaustion started to lift.
