That was all.
I thought her father would be delighted.
Instead, hours later, I overheard him complaining about them to another woman.
**“She sends me pictures all day. Like I don’t have anything more important to do.”**
I looked down at Sophie in my arms.
She was half asleep after her bottle, her tiny hand resting against my shoulder.
And something inside me began to crumble.
My name is Madeline.
Most people call me Maddie.
Elon and I had been married for seven years.
We’d known each other for nine.
And until recently, I believed we had the kind of marriage people hoped to find.
We met at a friend’s backyard barbecue when I was twenty-six.
Elon was trying to grill hot dogs.
He wasn’t particularly good at it.
One caught fire, and he tried blowing it out like a birthday candle.
I laughed and told him that probably wasn’t the best approach.
