Six months after the divorce, my ex-husband called out of nowhere to invite me to his wedding. I answered, “I just gave birth. I’m not going anywhere.” Thirty minutes later, he was bursting into my hospital room, frantic…
The phone rang while my newborn daughter slept on my chest, her tiny fist clutching the edge of my hospital gown.
On the screen was a name I had erased half a year ago but never truly left behind: Daniel.
I picked up without thinking.
“Emily,” he said, voice smooth and self-satisfied. “Hope this isn’t a bad time.”
I glanced at my daughter’s rosy face. “It is.”
He laughed softly. “Still dramatic. Anyway, I’m getting married tomorrow.”
For a second, the hospital room seemed to close in on me. The monitors kept beeping. Rain traced lines down the window. My stitches stung with every breath.
