A Wife's Vengeful Art

y phone, Chloe Davis beami

il my latest installation, 'Maternal Instincts.' A

e I hadn' t seen directed at

w nothing about being a mother. S

. My baby.

a word that belonged to me a

ld night air doing nothing to

ding across her face when she saw me.

oth, like honey m

te pedestal: a collection of jagged, broken gray

urred, theatrical. "How a mother's love can

on so much better than you ever did. He said your w

Not just as a wife, but as an

dy cracked, beg

nd heavy in my hand, it felt real. Solid. For the

my wrist. I just wanted th

ed d

bright and shocking. It didn'

god! What are you doing? You'r

ag. "Are you insane? This is a polish

stered as the world t

s her calling Mark: "Your

om. Mark stood over me,

me in front of Chloe? At her big opening?

iss, silencing my a

is right now. I have to go back a

as a doctor, kind

bright. I need to speak w

sound. "She's fine. Dramatic.

c, Mr. Peterson. She is suffering from severe postpartum depres

d over me. Someone saw

That's ridiculous. The baby's been gone for months. This is just

sychiatric hold? Don't be absurd. I

gest possible terms against that. Your wife admitted she wanted to die. Taki

hisper. "Are you calling me a negligent husband? My wife is emotional. S

ngs. We're going. You've cause

o him, my pain was an incon

erly alon

oor creaked

he rushed to me,

y throat, full of mon

ick. "Mark's assistant called him... C

" I choked out. "It's

not broken. You're sick. I've see

of his nam

leepless nights, his crying, mine, the overwhelmi

off. "All new

fog became a suffocating blackness.

g at my bandaged wrist. "I'm just... wait

ily squeezed my hand. "You're

outside, I wondered if even her love woul

house. But he couldn't imprison a woman who had alre