Chapter 2- The Other Side of the Door

The room felt impossibly small as I sat there, crumpled on the kitchen floor, later that night, clutching my belly like it was the only thing tethering me to reality. My husband made no move to catch me. 

"I want a divorce." 

The words had hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of my lungs. I stare at his shoes, shaking my head, unable to process what he'd just said. "A divorce? Gabe, I'm- I'm-" Well there was no other way to say it but, "- pregnant-" 

"I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't do this anymore." 

He knew? 

My face mirrored my thoughts for he answered. "Dr Singh called me when you did not pick up your meds." Gabe's figure loomed over me, but he felt light-years away, a ghost of the man I thought I knew. His face twisted in pain, and I wanted to scream at him for hurting me like this, for unraveling the life we had built. 

"How can you just walk away?" I finally croaked, my voice hoarse. He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze shifting from my stomach to the floor as if the very act of looking at me pained him. "I never wanted to hurt you, Meg. You have to believe that." 

"But you are," I said, my voice rising again, fueled by a mix of anger and despair. "You're hurting me, and you're hurting our child." 

His silence felt heavy, like a lead weight pressing down on my chest. Every second stretched into an eternity. 

"I can't keep pretending," he said finally, his tone almost pleading. "I can't pretend I'm happy when I'm not. And I don't want to bring a child into that." 

The sheer selfishness of it cut me deep. "So, you think leaving us will make everything better? That you'll suddenly find happiness on the other side of this door?" 

"I don't know," he replied, frustration creeping into his voice. "But I can't stay. I just can't. I'm suffocating-" 

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing this was all just a nightmare I could wake up from. When I opened them again, he was still there, still looming, and I felt that familiar nausea rise in my throat. 

"Where will you go?" I asked the question hanging in the air like a challenge. 

He hesitated, then swallowed hard, his Adam's apple that I used to love, bobbed. "I have some friends in the city. I'll figure it out. I just… need some space." 

Friends. Hah. Friends that wear plum-shade lipstick. 

"Space?" I laughed, a harsh sound that felt foreign coming from my mouth. "You need space from what? Your family? Your child?" 

"I can't do this right now," he said, frustration boiling in his voice. "You're making it harder than it needs to be." His hands came up in a halt motion then he ran a hand again through his thick dark hair. 

"Harder for you," I shot back, my voice trembling with fury and hurt. "What about me? What about our baby?" 

His jaw clenched as he looked away, and I felt the familiar swell of despair crashing over me like an unforgiving wave. I forced myself to take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside me, but the realization settled like lead in my stomach. He had already made his choice. 

"Maybe we can talk later?" he suggested his voice barely above a whisper. A furrow between his eyebrows, nostrils red and flared. 

"Talk?" I echoed, bitterness creeping into my words. "What's left to talk about? You've made it pretty clear how you feel." 

"I'm sorry, Meg. I really am," he said again, and there was a sincerity in his voice that almost broke me, but I wouldn't let it. One of his hands went to his forehead and the other to his waist, his maverick jacket open. 

"You're sorry? That doesn't mean anything. You're walking away from me, from us." The tears spilled over, and I wiped my cheeks angrily, but they just kept coming. "I can't believe this is happening." I find the strength to make it to my feet and push him but he almost didn't budge. 

"I know. I didn't want it to come to this," he said, his voice cracking slightly. 

"You didn't want it?" I scoffed, tears flowing down my cheeks hot. "But here we are, standing in the wreckage of our marriage. You made this decision, Gabriel. You chose this." The lipstick stain is on my mind. 

The silence between us grew thick, the weight of my accusation hanging in the air. He stepped back as if my words had pushed him away, and I felt a sharp pain in my chest, like a physical blow. I did not love him anymore- did I ever? 

We said we loved each other, but did we? It was just a good match when we got hitched, but I was content with him. 

"I just need some time," he said, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of regret in his eyes. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the mask of someone determined to escape. 

"Time?" I scoffed, the word bitter on my tongue. "You think time will fix this? You think you can just walk away and everything will be fine?" 

"It's not like that," he said, but his voice had softened, almost pleading. "I just don't know how to handle this." 

"You think running away will help?" I shot back, the anger bubbling to the surface again. "You'll just end up right back where you started, alone and miserable." 

"That's not true," he said, his voice rising. "I need to figure things out, Meg. I can't do it while I'm still here, in this house, with you." 

The truth of his words hit me hard, a gut punch that left me breathless. Maybe he was right. Maybe the longer he stayed, the more we would both hurt. But the idea of him leaving, of him abandoning me and our child, sent a fresh wave of despair crashing over me. He was leaving me for this phantom woman. The plum color-wearing woman. 

"I can't believe you're doing this," I whispered, my heart shattering into a million pieces and my hand covered my stomach protectively. 

"I'm sorry," he said again, but it felt like a hollow apology, devoid of any real meaning. 

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, the door clicking shut behind him like a final verdict. I was left alone, the silence of the empty house echoing in my ears, the weight of everything crashing down like a tidal wave. 

For a moment, I sat there in shock, the reality of my situation settling in. I was alone. My husband had walked out on me, on us, and I didn't know how to pick up the pieces. 

I pressed my hands to my belly, feeling a fierce protectiveness. "I'm sorry," I whispered to the child I hadn't yet met, the child that was now the only thing anchoring me in a sea of uncertainty. A child that was a blob still. "I'm so sorry." 

The tears flowed freely now, each sob wracking my body as the fear and pain overwhelmed me. I was going to be a single mother, and the thought of facing this alone was suffocating. 

What would I do? How would I raise a child without Gabe? The world felt impossibly dark, and I had no idea how to navigate it. 

After what felt like hours, I pushed myself up from the floor, my legs shaky beneath me. I needed to breathe, to think. 

I grabbed my phone and opened the contact list, hesitating for a moment before scrolling to my sister's name. Maybe she could help me find some clarity, maybe she could help me find a way to cope. I hit the call button, hoping she would pick up, hoping that somehow, she could pull me from this dark place. 

As the phone rang, I glanced at the door, half expecting Gabe to walk back in, to tell me he was joking, that it was all a mistake. But he didn't. 

"Meg? Is everything okay?" my sister's voice came through, and I felt a rush of relief wash over me. It was nearly nine at night, I saw. 

"No," I said, my voice breaking as the tears threatened to spill over again. "Everything is not okay."