Chapter 3

I didn't go far. I just rented a small apartment downtown.

It wasn't much, but it was quiet enough.

Once I'd unpacked, I took a cab to the hospital.

The follow-up results from my D&C surgery were due today.

The hospital corridors always smelled of disinfectant, people coming and going, everyone in a hurry.

I sat on a plastic chair outside the OB-GYN department, my registration slip pinched between my fingers.

The intercom called my name.

The doctor was a woman in her fifties, the department head. She read my report with her brow drawn tight.

“Ms. Joyner, your uterine lining is already very thin.”

“Four miscarriages in a row. The damage to your body is irreversible.”

She set the paper down and looked me in the eye.

“The chance of conceiving naturally from here on is extremely low, and even if you did, it would be very hard to carry to term.”

“You should prepare yourself for the possibility that you may never be able to have a child of your own.”

I listened in silence.

Some corner of my heart felt hollowed out.

“I understand. Thank you, Doctor.”

I folded the report and slid it into my bag.

As I stepped out of the exam room, Wayne Sanchez called.

“Ivy, you're not home?”

“Polly said you left with a suitcase. Where did you go?”

I looked at the window at the end of the corridor. The sunlight was harsh.

“I moved out.”

“Ivy Joyner!” He dropped his voice, like he was holding down his temper.

“I told you I won't sign that agreement. What is this, moving out?”

“Where are you? I'll send the driver to pick you up.”

“No need.” My tone was flat.

“I'm at the hospital right now.”

The other end went quiet for a second.

“A follow-up? Why didn't you tell me? I could have gone with you.”

His voice softened, back to the attentive, devoted husband.

“I happen to be in a meeting nearby. Which building are you in? I'll come right over.”

I was about to say don't bother, but my eyes went past the crowd and stopped at the far end of the corridor.

OB-GYN and psychiatry were on the same floor, with only one long corridor between them.

The door to the psychiatry office opened.

Wayne came out in that well-cut black suit, a few boxes of medicine in his hand.

Behind him, in a sundress, was Kayla Sharpe.

Kayla's face was pale, her eyes rimmed red, looking pitiful.

She reached out and gripped Wayne's sleeve, half her body leaning against him.

My hand went to my lower belly without my meaning it to. I would never have a child again.

Wayne didn't push her off.

One hand held his phone to his ear, the other rested at Kayla's waist.

“Ivy, give me ten minutes. The meeting's almost over.”

I stood where I was and watched him lie into the phone without a flicker on his face.

“Wayne Sanchez.” I said his name.

“Mm?”

“Look up.”

Wayne froze for a moment, then lifted his head on reflex.

The expression on his face locked up in an instant.

His phone slipped from his hand, and he let go of Kayla's waist all at once.

Kayla saw me and shrank back behind him.

Wayne came striding toward me.

“Ivy, let me explain.”

“Kayla had a breakdown last night and slit her wrist. I couldn't just leave her.”

He pointed at the gauze on Kayla's wrist, trying to prove every word was true.

“I was going to come find you the second she got her medicine.”

I watched him scramble to explain, and it all felt pointless.

“You don't need to explain.” I stepped aside.

“You brought her in to see a doctor. That's perfectly reasonable.”

Wayne's brow knit, as if my reaction displeased him.

“Are you following me?”

“Ivy, I told you there's nothing between me and her. Do you really have to check up on me like this?”

In his eyes, my being here wasn't chance. It was surveillance.

That was when Kayla walked over.

“Ivy, don't blame Wayne.”

“I really didn't mean to. I was just so scared.”

“Wayne told me before that whenever I needed him, he'd come.”

She looked at me, eyes brimming. “It's all my fault. I shouldn't have called him.”

“But I really couldn't control myself……”

Wayne stepped in front of her.

“Enough. Stop talking.”

He said it over his shoulder to Kayla, then turned back to me.

“Be reasonable. Don't make a scene right now.”

I looked at his face, so sure he was in the right, and I didn't even have the strength to be angry.

I nodded and turned toward the elevator.

“Carry on, then.”