The silence crushed me while I sat there, frozen and wondered.
When he left me with Westley, did he ever think about how I would survive alone? Did he ever worry if I was scared? If I was bleeding? If I would live to see another day?
I smiled without meaning to. My mouth tasted like metal. I lay back down and patted Ryle’s back as he stirred uneasily. I did not sleep again.
…
Morning came without mercy.
Ryle burned in my arms before the sun was fully up. His small body trembled, skin flushed, lips dry. When he cried, it was weak, broken, nothing like him. Panic slammed into me so hard I could barely breathe.
“Mommy’s here! I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” I called David while wrapping Ryle in a blanket. “Ryle has a fever,” My voice cracked despite my effort. “It’s high. I’m taking him to the hospital.”
There was movement on the other end. Keys. A door. For one brief, stupid second, hope rose.
“I’ll drive,” he said. “I’m coming now.”
Relief almost made me cry. Then another call cut in.
Roxanne.
I heard her voice through the speaker before he even answered. Loud. Weak. Dramatic.
“Dave… my stomach hurts so bad. I’m vomiting. I can’t stand it. I think something is really wrong with me…”
Silence.
Then David exhaled sharply.
“Belle,” he said, already distant. “You take him first. I’ll come later.”
Later.
I waited for him to say more. To choose. To remember he was a father. He didn’t. The line went dead.
I did not cry. I carried Ryle downstairs myself.
The family driver rushed to open the door when he saw Ryle’s condition. The car sped through the streets, the city blurring past like it was running from us.
Ryle whimpered against my chest. I rocked him gently, counting his breaths, pressing kisses into his burning hair.
“Stay with me,” I murmured. “Just stay with me.”
My phone vibrated again.
Messages.
Photos.
Posts.
My fingers went numb as I scrolled and every word stabbed.
Shameless. Cheater. Liar. Whore.
People I once knew commented beneath them. Old classmates. Distant relatives. Faces I recognized, all nodding along to the lie like it was gospel.
I tried to explain.
My hands shook so badly I mistyped every sentence. I rewrote it. Send it but my comment vanished.
Deleted.
I tried again.
Gone.
Again.
Erased.
My chest tightened. I could not breathe. Then the driver’s voice cut through my spiral, sharp with fear.
“Madam.”
I looked up. He gripped the wheel hard, knuckles white.
“There’s a car following us.”