My stitches were still fresh when my husband told me to find my own way home.He stood outside the maternity ward in a cream linen shirt, sunglasses hanging from his collar, a suitcase beside his polished shoes. His mother was already waiting in the Maybach. His sister was in the back seat, checking her lipstick in a compact mirror.\u201cWe can\u2019t miss the flight,\u201d Daniel said, glancing at his watch. \u201cThe jet leaves for Hawaii in ninety minutes.\u201dI stared at him, my newborn daughter sleeping against my chest, her tiny breath warm through the hospital blanket.\u201cYou\u2019re leaving now?\u201d I asked.Daniel sighed like I had inconvenienced him by bleeding, healing, and bringing his child into the world.\u201cLiora, don\u2019t start. My mother has been looking forward to this trip for months. Ava needs a break too. You and the baby should rest at home.\u201dHis mother, Marlene, lowered the Maybach window and gave me a smile that had no warmth in it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShe can call a car,\u201d she said. \u201cWomen gave birth without drama long before hospital suites and private nurses.\u201dAva laughed from the back seat. \u201cBesides, Hawaii is not exactly the place for a crying baby and a woman in a hospital gown.\u201dI looked down at myself.Loose dress.Swollen feet.Discharge papers trembling in one hand.A newborn child pressed against my heart.Daniel leaned closer, lowering his voice. \u201cDon\u2019t embarrass me. I already paid the hospital bill. What more do you want?\u201dFor a moment, I could not answer.Not because I was weak.Because something inside me had finally gone quiet.The part of me that used to explain. Forgive. Wait. Hope.It died right there on the curb.Daniel took his passport from his coat pocket and stepped back.\u201cCall me when you get home,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd don\u2019t blow up my phone while I\u2019m away. I need peace.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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