Chapter 4 - Midnight Confessions
Night fell over Des Moines with a heavy, cold autumn drizzle that tapped relentlessly against the bedroom windows. For the first time in four years, the king-sized bed felt vast and empty.
Elaine had insisted on staying in the guest room downstairs, refusing to leave me alone while I was experiencing frequent, stress-induced Braxton Hicks contractions. Every hour, she would quietly bring up a glass of cold water or a plate of sliced fruit, checking my temperature and rubbing my swollen ankles without a word of judgment.
At midnight, my phone lit up on the nightstand. It was a text from Nick.
Anna, please answer. I’m sitting in Mom’s basement. I haven’t eaten all day. I know what I did was unforgivable, but you have to let me explain the pressure I was under.
I stared at the glowing screen in the dark. My thumb hovered over the block button, but a deep, protective instinct for my unborn daughter stopped me. I needed the full truth documented in writing before I consulted an attorney on Monday morning.
Explain what, Nick? I typed back. Explain the title loan on your car? Or explain why you told your mother I had prenatal depression to cover up your gambling?
A five-minute silence followed. The typing bubbles appeared, vanished, and reappeared multiple times. Finally, a long block of text arrived.
Marcus took everything. The platform went dark on Thursday afternoon. When I tried to log in to withdraw the principal, the website was gone. His phone was disconnected. I went to his condo, and the leasing office said he packed two suitcases and left for Miami on Wednesday night.
My eyes scanned the words, a dry, bitter laugh escaping my throat. The classic exit scam. A fool and his stolen money, parted in an instant.
I panicked, Nick’s text continued. The loan payment on the car was due Friday. The electric bill was past due. I knew if you looked at the accounts, you’d leave me. I thought if I sold the clothes and the heirlooms, I could buy forty-eight hours to figure out another loan. I swear to God, Anna, I didn't want to hurt you. I just couldn't bear the thought of you looking at me like I was a failure.
You didn’t become a failure when you lost the money, Nick, I typed back, my fingers steady despite the tears streaming down my cheeks. You became a failure when you looked at your heavily pregnant wife, stole her dignity, left her with two rag t-shirts, and told her to figure it out herself. You sacrificed my health and Nora’s comfort so you wouldn't have to feel embarrassed.
Can we fix this? he pleaded. I’ll get a second job. I’ll work night shifts at the warehouse. Just don't take Nora away from me.
May you like
You took Nora’s security away before she was even born, I replied. Do not text me again tonight. If you come to this house tomorrow, I will call the police.
I locked the phone, turned it face down on the nightstand, and rolled onto my side, wrapping my arms around my belly. Nora kicked firmly against my ribs, a sharp, vital reminder that my priority was no longer preserving a man’s delicate ego. My only job was to protect the little girl waiting to enter this world.
