Chapter 2

Monica Henson was the finest woman I had ever met in this world.

Beautiful. Gentle. Clever. Kind.

One look, and I was gone.

After we married, no matter how late I worked, she'd wait up with a light on and a table of food, every single time.

When I ran a fever, she stayed up all night, wiping me down over and over with a damp towel to cool me.

When my business failed and I was buried in debt, she handed over every cent of her savings and said with a smile,

"It's okay. I'll carry it with you."

Every holiday, she had gifts ready for my parents ahead of time, more thoughtful about them than I was, and I'm their own son.

Those scenes flickered through my mind one after another, and the weight in my chest grew heavier.

Godfrey wanted to keep pushing, but my phone suddenly rang.

It was my mom.

The moment I answered, her anxious voice came through:

"Irvin, where are you right now?"

"Get to the maternity hospital, quick, Monica just gave birth!"

I gave a flat "Oh," and said, unhurried,

"I'm out having a late meal. I can't get away."

Then my dad's furious shout burst out beside her:

"A late-night snack matters more than your wife and child?"

"Get over here right now!"

I sighed and said, helplessly,

"When she's discharged and home, I'll see her and the baby then."

"No point making a special trip."

That only made my dad angrier.

"You worthless piece of trash!"

"Monica's here half-dead giving you a son, and you won't even come to the hospital?"

"I'm telling you, if you don't show your face today, I'm cutting you off as my son!"

With that, he slammed the phone down.

The second Godfrey and Arnold heard, they were on their feet.

"Come on, come on, forget the food, get to the hospital, we're going with you."

Before I could refuse, the two of them hauled me up out of my seat, one on each side, and shoved me into the car.

I'd been drinking, so Godfrey drove, racing us across the city, and we reached the maternity hospital fast.

The moment I walked into Monica's room, I saw my parents and my in-laws gathered around her bed.

Beside the bed was a bassinet, and inside lay a tiny baby.

The instant I saw the child, I froze.

His face was almost exactly like mine as a boy.

While I stood there staring at the baby, Monica's mother came up to me, her eyes red.

"Irvin, what did any of us ever do to wrong you? Why would you torture Monica like this?"

I looked at my mother-in-law's stricken face.

Then at Monica on the bed, pale and drained.

I asked, not understanding,

"Mom, how exactly did I torture Monica?"

She stared at me like I was out of my mind.

"When Monica's water broke, you left her there alone and went out for a late meal, and you still have the nerve to ask how you tortured her?"

"Irvin, do you have any conscience at all?"

The whole thing seemed baffling to me.

"Mom, Monica didn't have the money for the fare, that's the only reason I left."

"How is that my fault?"

Hearing that, my father-in-law rushed over, grabbed me by the collar, and roared,

"You've got the nerve to bring up cab fare?"

"Irvin, that's your own flesh and blood my daughter was carrying!"

"You're Monica's husband, the baby's father, and this is how you take care of them?"

I felt worn down.

"Dad, that's not fair to say."

"Monica and I agreed long ago, household costs are split down the middle. She didn't have the money for the fare herself, so I can't just cover it out of pocket, can I?"

I thought I'd explained it clearly enough, but he only got angrier.

"You split everything with your pregnant wife?"

"Irvin, back when you were chasing Monica, pestering her every way you could, why didn't you mention splitting things then?"

"When your business failed and you were drowning in debt and Monica handed you every cent she'd saved, why didn't you mention splitting things then?"

"Now that Monica can't work through the pregnancy and money's needed everywhere, now you split everything with her, are you even human?"