Chapter 2

I turned and walked into the bedroom.

The moment I shut the door, the tears finally came.

I sat on the edge of the bed for a while, staring at nothing.

Then I picked up my phone and opened the family group chat — Derek's side of the family.

My finger hovered over the screen.

I hesitated for a few seconds.

Then I typed:

For everyone's information — effective today, Derek Calloway and I are divorcing. I wish you all well going forward. Please do not contact me. Regards.

Send.

I left the group.

I blocked every contact from his family. One by one.

When it was done, I tossed my phone onto the bed and leaned against the headboard.

Within minutes, it rang again.

Unknown number.

I picked up.

It was Aunt Patricia.

"Nina, sweetheart, what's going on? Your mother called me — she said you posted something in the group about a divorce?"

"Derek is a good man. Steady, responsible. Why would you want a divorce over this?"

I listened to her rapid-fire questions, my voice steady.

"Aunt Patricia, he sold our home. $480,000. $180,000 to pay Ryan's gambling debts. $300,000 to set him up in business. Yes, the down payment came from his family's side — but the renovation was mine, and we paid the mortgage together. I'm pregnant, and I was having cramps, and he wouldn't let me go to the doctor. He told me to work through the pain and keep making the mortgage payments. And now there's no home to go back to."

"Aunt Patricia — tell me honestly. Should I stay?"

Silence.

Then, quieter: "Well… he's the older brother. When your little brother is in trouble, you help. That's just how it is…"

"Is it?"

I laughed once, sharp.

"Aunt Patricia — if you were pregnant, and your husband sold the house out from under you to pay his brother's gambling debts, would you stay?"

She went quiet.

"I thought so. I've made my decision. Please don't try to talk me out of it."

"He can devote himself to his brother. That's his choice."

"But my child deserves a real home. Not this."

"Take care of yourself."

I hung up. Blocked her number.

The phone rang again almost immediately. Aunt Gloria this time.

"Nina, let me say a few words—"

"Go ahead, Aunt Gloria. I already know what you're going to say."

I cut her off.

"You're going to say Derek's a good man, don't be impulsive, think of the baby, think twice before throwing away a marriage."

She went silent.

"You're going to say a home can be bought again, but once a marriage is gone, it's gone. Am I wrong?"

She said nothing.

"Aunt Gloria, I have thought about it. Very clearly."

"I've been enduring for three years. His paycheck going to his mother — I endured it. The money he sent to Ryan — I endured it. Being pregnant with cramps and not being allowed to go to the doctor, working overtime to keep up with the mortgage — I endured all of it."

"And now he's sold the house and expects me to keep enduring?"

"Tell me — where does it end?"

A long sigh.

"Nina, I know you've been through so much… but divorce is serious…"

"I know it is."

"Which is why I'm sure."

"Take care of yourself, Aunt Gloria."

I hung up. Put my phone on silent. Dropped it in my bag.

Got up. Walked out.

In the hallway, I nearly ran into Derek coming through the front door.

He stopped when he saw me.

"Where are you going?"

I looked him in the eye.

"Home."

"Which home?"

"My parents' home."

I stepped around him and kept walking.

He called after me.

"Nina! Don't do anything rash. Let's talk this through—"

I didn't look back.

By the time I got to my parents' place, the sky had gone dark.

Mom answered the door. She blinked at me.

"Why are you here at this hour? Have you eaten?"

I didn't answer. I walked in and sat down on the couch.

Dad came out of the back room, took one look at me.

"What happened?"

I looked up.

"Mom. Dad. I'm getting a divorce."

Mom's apron fell to the floor.

"Divorce — what? Why? Things were fine—"

I told them everything. The house sold. $480,000. $180,000 for Ryan's gambling debt, $300,000 for his new business. The down payment had come from his family, but the renovation was mine, the mortgage was ours. I was pregnant. He'd stopped me from going to the doctor, told me to work through the pain and keep earning. And now the house was gone and there was nowhere to go.

I said it all very calmly.

Like it had happened to someone else.

Mom's eyes filled.

"That bastard… you're pregnant and he still made you work overtime? Couldn't even let you go to the hospital?"

Dad was quiet for a long time.

Then he stood, went to the kitchen, came back with a glass of water. Set it in front of me.

"Drink something."

I picked it up and took a sip.

He looked at me steadily.

"You've made up your mind?"

"Yes."

"The baby?"

I lowered my eyes.

"I want to terminate."

Mom let out a sob.

"Nina — that's a life—"

My throat tightened. I held myself together.

"Mom. I know."

"But if this baby comes into the world — where does he live? In a rental? Does he grow up asking his father why every other family has a home and we don't?"

Mom covered her mouth. She couldn't speak.

Dad was quiet for a very long time.

Then:

"Alright."

Mom turned on him, frantic.

"Robert! What do you mean, alright? That's our grandchild—"

Dad looked at her evenly.

"What do you want her to do? Keep the baby and spend the rest of her life tied to a man who sold their house to bail out his gambling brother? Let her spend the next twenty years remembering that she had cramps during her pregnancy and he wouldn't let her go to the doctor — just made her grit her teeth and work?"

Mom couldn't find the words.

Dad looked at me.

"I'll go with you."

The tears I'd been holding back finally broke.

"Dad—"

He waved a hand.

"Don't. Go eat."

He turned and went into the kitchen.

"Your mom bought fish today. I'll make it with a honey glaze."

I watched his back disappear.

From the kitchen came the sound of the knife — steady, rhythmic.

Just like when I was a child and came home bruised and upset. He never asked questions. Never told me what to do. He just cooked.

Just made sure I ate something.