But Lily, my five-year-old, was bouncing beside the cart like this was a special outing instead of just another day I was trying to keep everything from falling apart.
“Mommy, can we get a teddy bear for the baby?” she asked, gripping the cart with both hands.
“We’ll see, sweetheart,” I said with a tired smile. “Let’s grab what we really need first.”
Diapers. Bottles.
A pale yellow blanket I held to my cheek a moment too long, picturing a tiny newborn curled against me. For a few minutes, it almost felt normal.
Then I turned into the next aisle—and everything inside me dropped.
Ethan.
My husband stood near the stroller section, dressed sharp as ever, polished and confident. And beside him stood a woman with sleek hair and a smile that didn’t belong in a place meant for families.
Madison.
I’d seen her name flash across his phone late at night—“work,” he’d claimed.
I’d heard her laugh faintly in the background of calls he said were with friends. But seeing her there in person felt like ice sliding down my spine.
Lily stopped short. “Daddy?”
Ethan glanced at us like we were an inconvenience.
“Claire,” he said flatly. No guilt. No surprise.
Just irritation.
Madison stepped forward, looking me up and down—from my swollen belly to my scuffed sneakers. “Wow,” she said loudly. “You actually leave the house.”
Madison let out a sharp laugh.
“For what? Another baby to keep him tied down?”
Lily’s fingers trembled. “Mommy…”
Ethan didn’t move.
Didn’t intervene. Didn’t look ashamed. He just stood there with his arms crossed, like he was watching a scene unfold.
My heart pounded painfully.
“Ethan,” I warned softly.
Madison tilted her head. “You’re the problem, Claire. You and your extra baggage.”
Before I could react, her hand struck my face.
The crack echoed down the aisle.
My cheek burned. Lily screamed.
And Ethan—my husband, the father of my children—did nothing.
I tasted metal as tears blurred my vision. Then I noticed someone at the end of the aisle.
Still.
Watching.
My father.
The look on his face wasn’t explosive. It was worse than that.
Everything inside me went still. I shifted, placing myself between Lily and Madison, one hand resting protectively over my belly.
Lily buried her face in my coat.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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