The Pink Car of Betrayal

en Riv

n within. I glanced back, a ghost of a graphic designer, helping him s

than ever. Sleep was a foreign concept. My mind ra

when I was sitting by the window, watching the sunri

e, wrapped his arms around me from behind, and pressed a kiss

ty tang of his sweat. I remembered the sounds from his office. My stomach rebelled

etched with concern. He rubbed my back, his touch making

ng. "Just a chill," I managed,

the kitchen. "I'll make you a hot todd

e good bourbon and the exact amount of honey I liked. He use

g in my chest. Just not for me. We hadn't been intimate in months. He always

ements and vitamins to boost his "vitality." I was such a

emon and whiskey filling the air. It smelled exact

uldn't thaw the ice in my heart. Tears welled i

lling me into his arms. "My heart brea

ile. "It's just the whiskey fumes," I lied,

"You're so sweet, my lo

he last vestiges of pain. It would al

in my husband's office, wearing nothing but a flimsy s

. But my baby is proof of his virility. Our b

he hasn't had real passion in years. While you were

r steady. No emotion. Nothing

ody trembling, not from fear, but from the immense weight of what

tly streaming down my face. You deserve so much more

ttle life, so desperately wanted, so carelessl

e it?" My voice wa

weren't so squeamish when you were havin

ummaged through the bloody gauze, the medical tubing, until

trembling hands. I walked out of the hospital, the bright

ochure for a luxury maternity ward. Donovan says only t

ld, I thought, a chilling emptiness i

fice. "I want a divorce," I told

you don't want any assets? No

rom him," I said.

steady. When I got home, I placed the papers and the tiny, tissu

dn't reach my eyes. Happy birthday,

ury villa. Donovan says this is where our baby will gro

y heart into. The one we bought with his first big

He's old. And so am I