Her little mouth moved impatiently.

And I realized that no matter what had just happened, she still needed me.

So I picked up her bottle.

Sat in the rocking chair.

And fed my daughter.

I watched the milk disappear, ounce by ounce.

I burped her.

Changed her diaper.

Placed her carefully in her crib.

Then I went into the hallway bathroom.

I turned on the fan.

Sat on the edge of the bathtub.

Pressed a towel against my face.

And cried.

I didn’t call Elon back.

I didn’t send him an angry message.

I didn’t telephone my mother.

For the first time in months, I gave myself permission to do absolutely nothing for someone else.

I simply sat there.

Thinking.

Breathing.

Trying to understand what I’d heard.

Eventually, I made a decision.

**Elon wasn’t going to know that I knew. Not yet.**

Two hours later, the front door opened.