He let me go, patted my head, and walked off with her—leaving me standing there.
Watching them disappear, it hit me. Love and indifference? They’re not that hard to tell apart.
***
After the checkup, I went home.
Alone.
The place felt like a freezer.
I showered, crawled into bed, completely out of it.
Then the door clicked. Quentin’s voice drifted in, tired. “Your hair’s wet. You’ll catch a cold.”
I didn’t budge.
He sighed, picked me up, and sat me in front of the vanity.
The hair dryer whirred to life. He ran his fingers through my hair, drying it.
Still, I said nothing.
“What’s wrong? Still mad about today?” he asked. “Didn’t I say I’d marry you after this is all sorted?”
He knew exactly where to dig.
He leaned in, warm breath brushing my ear. Goosebumps.
I bit back. “What if I say no?”
His face shifted, all shadow. “I’m not asking—I’m telling you how it is.”
Then came the switch—softer, like that made it better. “Rainee’s got no one. I’m all she has. I can’t just ditch her.”
He grabbed a suitcase and started throwing stuff in.
Didn’t take long before it was packed and ready.
At the door, he turned. “Her morning sickness is bad. I’ll stay a few days. Call if you need something.”
The suitcase clicked over the threshold.
That’s when I felt the tears.
So this was it.
He knew I had no one. Knew I was sick, sleepless, wrecked.
He just didn’t care.
Next to Rainee, I was nothing.
