The day I gave birth, my husband left me alone.

While I was bleeding in the hospital, he flew overseas to cook for his first love.

He actually thought I was making it up.

"Quit messing around, Tanya. I'm about to go through security. Get some sleep," he said and hung up.

That's when I finally realized he had never chosen me.

So I signed the divorce papers and had the baby alone.

I swore to myself, that this would be my fresh start.

By the time he returned home, I was already gone from his world.

"Please, just let me see the baby," he begged, crying.

I just smiled. "She's my child. Not yours."

***

I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

I lay down, called an ambulance, and then dialed my brother, Mitchell Kelton. He must've been asleep. The call almost went to voicemail before he picked up.

"What's wrong, Tanya? Is the baby coming?"

Hearing how worried he sounded, I burst into tears. My throat tightened, I couldn't get a word out.

My mom died giving birth to me. My dad was always busy with business, then remarried. It was Mitchell who raised me. But for Maxwell Hammon, I said a lot of awful things to him. He was so disappointed in me, he said he wouldn't look after me anymore.

In the ambulance, I held Mitchell's hand and told him I was sorry.

"Don't be scared. I'm right here," he said.

My labor was slow, even the induction meds didn't help, and my amniotic fluid kept decreasing. After five hours of pain, I had to switch to a C-section to deliver my daughter.

The doctor placed her on my chest and congratulated me on my baby girl, saying it'd been a while since they'd seen a newborn with so much hair.

I was laughing through tears. She was healthy, and that was all that mattered.

Maxwell and I had named her Lindsey Hammon.

But now there was no need to use the last name "Hammon." She was Tanya Kelton's daughter, Lindsey Kelton.

I woke up in the afternoon and checked my phone. Maxwell had been updating me. He landed, got to Brienne Nagel's place, and tried calling twice. Then he messaged asking if I was awake, if I had lunch, and if I was still mad.

Meanwhile, Brienne posted on Instagram. A plate of buffalo wings with blue cheese dip.

"I'm so happy I could die! Who gets it? My sad, empty stomach isn't worthy of this kind of deliciousness!"

Maxwell commented, "Okay, you're being dramatic."

Brienne replied, "Love you! Mwah!"

Mitchell asked me what I felt like eating, so I showed him the pic. "This. Just like this."

Then, Maxwell called again. I took a deep breath and answered.

"Tanya? You finally answered. I was scared—thought something happened when you didn't reply."

I stayed quiet.

"You're still mad, aren't you?"

Then Brienne suddenly chimed in, "Please don't be mad at Maxwell. It's my fault. But honestly, I didn't think he'd show up! I was so shocked, I thought I was hallucinating from hunger!

"By the way, I bought a gift and some cute clothes for Lindsey," Brienne said. "Maxwell can bring them back for you."

Maxwell laughed and told her to keep her distance before she got flour on his clothes.

"We're making ravioli. She just finished a huge portion of buffalo wings and is already thinking about her next meal. Luckily, I brought a rolling pin, otherwise, we'd be using a wine bottle."

Brienne said, "I roll dough better with a wine bottle than you do with a rolling pin!"

Maxwell said, "Let's see, then!"

***

They teased each other for a while. Maxwell looked so happy, he was more playful than he was with me.

"Honey?"

I said, "Yeah, I'm listening."

"How's the baby? She doesn't give you a hard time today, does she?"

I smiled. "Yeah, she's really well-behaved."

He sighed in relief. "Glad to hear it. Don't make a joke like that again, okay? I get it, it's probably the hormones. You're not being unreasonable."

"Yeah, you guys go finish your ravioli. I'm gonna eat too."

I called Mitchell and told him I didn't want buffalo wings—I wanted ravioli, and he had to make it himself.

He chuckled. "Okay, little troublemaker."

The nurse handed me my daughter. I gently touched her tiny nose, heart-melting.

"You're a little troublemaker too. Let's stick with Uncle Mitchell for life, okay?"

The next day, Mitchell helped me get out of bed. The pain brought tears to my eyes. I noticed his eyes were red too, so I joked, "When your wife gives birth someday, you're gonna bawl like a baby."

He lightly knocked my head. "Mind your own business."

Back in the hospital room, I saw Maxwell's message. Snow in Australia had canceled all flights, and he couldn't make it back.

"Sorry, Honey. I forgot to check the forecast. I don't know how it suddenly snowed so much overnight."

I looked out at the bright sun and lush summer trees and felt like we were living in two separate worlds.

Would he and Brienne be happier without me?

Maxwell and I were graduate students in the same department. He was a year ahead, my senior. I fell for him almost at first sight. He was aloof, so I chased him relentlessly. Six months later, we got together and kept it a secret until he graduated.

Mitchell said Maxwell only agreed to be with me after finding out about our family's wealth, and that he had ulterior motives. Of course, I didn't believe it. Maxwell said he loved me, and I trusted him completely.

I even secretly asked Mitchell to help fund Maxwell's startup.

After the celebration party, Maxwell got drunk and started rambling in front of Mitchell and me, "I've made money now! You can study abroad anywhere you want! I'll pay for everything! I won't let you struggle anymore..."

Mitchell gave me a sarcastic look and asked when I ever said I wanted to study abroad—how come he didn't know? I couldn't answer that the one planning to study abroad was Brienne.

I kept telling myself it was just drunk talk. They grew up together, so it made sense that they were close.

I loved him. As long as he stayed with me, that was enough.

The next day, when he sobered up, I asked if he wanted to marry me. He looked surprised and asked if he had let it slip yesterday. He had bought a ring and was planning to propose.

When I told Mitchell about it, we ended up in a huge fight. He finally gave in with a frustrated sigh. "Do whatever you want. Just don't come crying to me later."

I replied, "It's fine. You can spend more time with Brienne while you're there. It's been a while since you two caught up."

Maxwell texted back, "Thanks, Honey. I just figured you'd need help after giving birth, so I wanted to see Brienne now while I still had time."

It was true I couldn't manage alone—doctor, nurse, maternity nanny, Mitchell. But Maxwell shouldn't be considered as "help."

Maxwell asked a couple more questions about the baby. I told him she was fine and nothing to worry about.

Lindsey's tiny hand was wrapped tightly around my finger, babbling excitedly in baby talk.

It wasn't until my tears fell onto her little shirt that I realized I'd been crying.

"You didn't cry, but I did," I laughed. "I'm not as strong as you."

The nanny saw this and quickly handed me a warm towel. "Don't cry so much during your recovery. Eye damage can last a lifetime."

Three days after giving birth, I still had no milk. Mitchell said the formula was better, that it'd make things easier on me.

I cried again.

Maxwell wanted to video call and show me the snow and the snowman they made. I told him I was eating with Mitchell, so he dropped it.

"I'm a lot more at ease with Mitchell there. You're about to give birth, I've been anxious this whole time."

I sneered. You left so easily, you didn't seem worried about me at all.

I already saw the snowman on Brienne's Instagram. The two of them were rolling around in the snow, faces and noses red, grinning brightly.

Last winter when it snowed, I bought these little duck molds online and happily lined up a row of snow ducks in front of his car. He smashed one of them. "You're 27, not 7. Can you stop being so childish?"

I couldn't sleep that night. While deleting photos, Brienne sent me a video. There was no picture, just their voices, and it sounded like they'd been drinking.

Brienne first said, "If I'd been a little braver back then, do you think things would've turned out differently?"

Then Maxwell replied, "Brienne, there's no ‘what if'."

Brienne continued, "Didn't you say you'd celebrate my birthday early? My birthday wish this year is for you to answer that question."

Maxwell replied softly, "Maybe. But Brienne, no matter what we are, as long as you need me, I'll always be there for you."

Brienne admitted in a shaky voice, "I do need you."

She choked.

There was a rustling sound, and then the video ended. A second later, she deleted it.

Apparently, a childhood friend's "I need you" carried more weight than a wife's—even when she was about to give birth.

Late that night, Maxwell suddenly texted me, "Honey, I love you. I miss you and Lindsey so much."

I laughed. Every word reeked of guilt.

Four days after delivery, I left the hospital and checked into a recovery center. Not the one Maxwell and I had planned on; Mitchell got me into a better one.

Maxwell wanted to video call again to see the baby. I told him my phone camera was broken.

"Okay, I'll get you a new one when I'm back," he said. "So, what did you do today?"

"Sleep."

He asked why I sounded down and unhappy. I almost laughed. No way I could be as happy as the two of them, all cozy catching up after being apart. Just hearing his voice made me feel sick now.

But I clung to that pain like some kind of twisted comfort—the more it hurt, the less I wavered.

"No, just didn't sleep well."

"Lindsey keeping you up again?" he asked, sounding concerned. "My flight's tomorrow morning. I'll be in New York by evening. Hopefully no more delays."

"Maxwell Hammon! You're still not done?" Brienne shouted from somewhere nearby.

Maxwell answered her, then said to me, "Brienne and I are heading out for a bit. Do you want anything? A gift? Maybe a bag or some makeup? I have no clue about that stuff, just tell Brienne."

Before I could respond, Brienne snatched the phone. "Hey, what do you want? Send me a list, and let him pay."

"I'm good, don't need anything."

I said to Maxwell, "Just get back early."

He chuckled. "Miss me?"

His flight got delayed another day, but he made it back right before my due date.

He was proud of the perfect timing.

"No movement from the baby yet?"

"Yeah, she's sleeping so soundly."

"I grabbed a ride and will be home soon. You and the baby just wait for me."

I'd just had a relaxing hair wash and enjoyed some tea when I slowly answered Maxwell's call.

"Tanya, where are you? What's going on at home? Did we get robbed?" He was freaking out.

Mitchell took everything that belonged to me and the baby, then wrecked the rest.

"I don't know."

He caught on. "Wait, didn't you say you weren't mad anymore?

"Okay... Where are you? At Mitchell's place? I'll come over and apologize face-to-face, okay?"

"No."

"Honey, I was wrong. You're due any day now. Don't let this stress you out. It's not good for you or the baby," he said anxiously.

"Oh, so now you remember I'm pregnant?"

He bumped into something and cried out in pain.

"Tanya..." He sounded helpless like he wanted to say more but held back. "Please, just tell me where you are. Yell at me, hit me, whatever you want, just let me see you, or I'll be worried."

"Aren't we talking just fine? What's there to worry about?" I sipped my tea. "I don't even have the energy to be mad at you."

"Tanya, can you please stop talking like that? I'm seriously trying to work this out with you."

I chuckled. "Yeah, let's work this out. Mitchell's lawyer will reach out tomorrow. I want a divorce, Maxwell."

"Wait, what? A div—" He thought I was sulking. "Honey, please stop making a fuss. You're pregnant, the baby's almost here! Let's wait until everything goes smoothly with the birth, then we can talk, okay?"

I hung up the phone.

Mitchell came by after work and said Maxwell had shown up at his office. He even tried to get into Mitchell's neighborhood but was stopped by security.

I laughed. "Well, you better be careful. Don't let him follow you here."

"Don't worry. Even if he does, there's no way he's getting in."

Maxwell refused to sign the divorce agreement and almost hit the lawyer.

After losing it, he dropped to his knees and begged Mitchell to let him see me, saying I could go into labor any minute and he had to be there.

Mitchell punched him. I could hear the sound of fists hitting flesh through the phone.

I told Mitchell to put him on the phone.

"Lindsey, are you full?"

Lindsey let out a happy gurgle, "Ah! Ah!"

"Tanya..." He was so shocked he could barely speak. "She... When—"

"I told you that my water broke, didn't I?"