They had spent the whole summer acting careful. My mother clipped coupons in front of me and sighed over grocery prices. My father shook his head when I suggested one quiet weekend away together, like I had asked him to buy a second house instead of share a motel room and a diner breakfast. “This summer we’re staying in,” Mom told me. “It’s just too much.” I believed her because believing them had become a reflex, even after years of little disappointments. They knew I kept one reserve account for emergencies, and they knew my health was the reason I guarded it like oxygen. At 3:08 in the morning, my phone buzzed hard enough to wake me. The notification said $9,860 had been withdrawn from my reserve fund. I sat up so fast the room tilted, opened the banking app, and watched my own life turn into someone else’s vacation. There were first-class flights to Mykonos. There was a luxury suite, a private driver, designer shops, spa treatments, and restaurant holds that cost more than my rent. Every charge use

h her.

“I kept defending him.”

“You wanted to believe your husband.”

“I ignored things I would have questioned in anyone else.”

“That makes you human, not foolish.”

Another contraction rose without warning.

Audrey gasped and curled forward.

“It’s starting.”

“I’m timing it.”

The phone slipped from her hand.

For several seconds, the room blurred at the edges. She focused on the tiny gold pattern in the floor tile and thought about the nursery at home.

The pale yellow curtains.

The secondhand rocking chair she had restored herself.

The row of children’s books on the shelf, each one chosen carefully.

Julian had painted one wall blue after they learned they were having a boy. He had spent an entire Saturday measuring and remeasuring the crib before finally assembling it. That memory came to her now with painful clarity.

He had looked happy.

Had it been real?

Audrey had spent the last two weeks asking herself that question about everything.

Their first apartment.

Their courthouse wedding.

The way he held her hand during the first ultrasound.

The quiet Sunday mornings when he made coffee and read the business pages while she worked on crossword puzzles.

Were those moments true, or had she simply wanted them to be?