Then I went upstairs.
At eleven, I heard him moving around the kitchen.
A cabinet opened.
Sophie cried briefly.
Then she became quiet.
I lay awake, staring into the darkness.
Wondering how many nights I’d handled everything alone while he was spending time with Sierra.
When Elon finally came to bed, he turned toward the wall.
He didn’t reach for me.
And I remembered what he’d said.
*I can barely stand being around her anymore.*
At least that part hadn’t been a lie.
The following evening, he brought up something unexpected.
I was folding Sophie’s tiny clothes when he sat on the edge of the bed.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said.
“About what?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t go back to work yet.”
I looked up.
My maternity leave was almost over.
I had four weeks remaining.
We’d always agreed that I’d return to my career.
