Chapter 2He Signed My Abortion Paper

I stepped into the dark apartment and flicked on the light. Sitting on the entryway console was a luxury maternity lumbar massager.

I recognized the brand immediately. I had looked at it dozens of times during my first trimester but couldn't bring myself to spend the eight hundred dollars. Back when my back was aching constantly, I had complained to Denis. He had merely kissed my forehead and said, "Hang in there, sweetie. It'll pass."

And now, here it was. But I didn't need it anymore.

I picked up the box and slid it into the bottom of the closet. I didn't leave the hallway light on for him like I usually did. I just went straight to bed.

Sometime in the middle of the night, someone shook my shoulder roughly.

"Nicole! Where is the package I left in the entryway? Did you take it?"

My head throbbed. I blinked through the darkness, disoriented. "What?"

Denis’s voice flared with irritation. "The maternity massager. Did you hide the massager I bought for Susie? She's in her first trimester and her back is killing her. Why do you always have to take things meant for her?"

My mind cleared instantly. Of course. It wasn't for me.

I got out of bed, ignored his glaring eyes, walked over to the closet, and handed him the box. "Don't worry. I didn't touch it."

I remembered our third anniversary. He had come home with a delicate silver heart pendant. Assuming it was for me, I had eagerly tried it on and turned to show him.

His face had stripped of all warmth. "Take it off. It’s not yours."

I froze, hurt paralyzing me. He didn't wait. He reached out and snatched it from my neck, leaving a red scratch across my collarbone.

Later, while applying ointment to the scratch with guilt-ridden hands, I asked him quietly, "Who was it for?"

The tenderness immediately returned to his eyes. "Susie. She's been wanting it for months. It cost me half my monthly bonus."

I waited for him to mention my gift. When he didn't, I asked, "And what did you get me for our anniversary?"

He blinked, then casually pulled a cheap pink claw clip from his briefcase. "Here. This is for you."

I found out later that the clip was a free gift-with-purchase. Susie didn't want it, so it became mine.

The signs of his indifference had always been there. I had just chosen to ignore them.

Suddenly, a paper bag was shoved into my hands.

Having put away the massager, Denis guided me toward the sofa. "I brought you some warm ginger tea. You got wet in the rain. Drink it so you don't catch a cold."

I set the bag on the coffee table. "I'm not hungry."

He opened the container anyway, frowning. "You're eating for two, Nicole. Don't be childish. Do it for the baby."

A bitter smile touched my lips. My stomach was already flatter, but he hadn't even looked closely enough to notice.

When we first got married, if I so much as nicked my finger slicing an apple, he would panic, rushing to find antiseptic and band-aids. By the time he was done fussing, the scratch would already be healed. I used to laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck, telling him he was overreacting.

"I can never overreact when it comes to you," he’d whisper, holding me tight. "You're my whole world."

But promises are cheap.

He had a foster sister—his secret first love. They had dated in secret for eight years before his parents found out and forced them apart. To him, I was merely the safe, acceptable compromise.

"Drink it while it's hot," he urged, pressing the thermos into my hands.

To avoid an argument, I took a few sips. But within minutes, my chest tightened. My airway began to close, and hives erupted across my arms. I grabbed his wrist. "What... what did you put in this?"

His eyes widened in panic. "Just brown sugar and ginger... and a little peanut powder for flavor. Nicole, what's happening?"

"I'm calling 911! Stay with me, Nicole, please..."

His hands shook violently as he held me. In my fading consciousness, I realized it had been years since I had seen him this terrified for me.

The ambulance arrived, and they loaded me onto a gurney. But just as Denis was about to climb in after me, his phone rang. It was the custom ringtone he had set only for Susie.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering.

Susie's sobbing voice filled the air. "Denis, I cut my wrist on a glass bottle! There's so much blood... please help me..."

Without a second thought, he stepped back from the ambulance. "I'm coming, Susie. Don't panic. Apply pressure to the wound..."

The paramedics yelled at him, but he was already running toward his car. My gasping, suffocating state wasn't enough to make him stay.

I spent the night in the ICU under an oxygen tent, battling severe anaphylactic shock.

The next morning, I opened my eyes to see my mother sitting by my bedside, her eyes red from crying.

"When the hospital called, I thought my heart was going to stop," she whispered, stroking my forehead. "Everyone knows you have a lethal peanut allergy, Nicole. How could you have ingested it?"

Before I could answer, the door swung open. Denis walked in, ushering a tearful Susie inside.