While I Was Losing Our Baby, He Was Celebrating Her Dog’s Puppies Chapter 03

While I Was Losing Our Baby, He Was Celebrating Her Dog’s Puppies Chapter 03

The words on the front of the envelope were in Ethan’s handwriting.

“I will always support your dream.”

I stared at that sentence for a long time.

I thought about the past five years, about caring for his parents, cooking, doing the laundry, and handling every detail of our home.

I thought about how much I envied my former coworkers whenever I saw them working late on investigative stories, and how much I missed the life I had given up.

Then I laughed.

The whole thing was absurd.

So Ethan did know how to respect someone else’s dream.

I photographed everything as evidence, put it all back exactly where I had found it, and called Monica.

“Monica, I heard the newsroom is still looking for someone to take the frontline reporting assignment in the war zone, and no one has volunteered. If the position is still open, I want it.”

The line went silent for several seconds.

Monica was stunned.

“Of course. When you transferred to production support, I thought it was such a waste. This assignment is dangerous, but for a real journalist, it’s also a rare opportunity. Start getting ready. You’ll leave in the next few days.”

After the call, I began packing.

There was nothing left in that house I wanted to take with me.

Nothing except the last sweater my mother had knitted for me before she died.

She had made plenty of clothes for me when I was little.

But as I grew older, so did she, and her eyesight was no longer what it used to be.

I did not want her straining herself, so I asked her to stop knitting for me.

After I got pregnant, I was cold all the time.

My mother secretly made me another sweater anyway.

Her eyes were red from staying up late, but she only smiled when she gave it to me.

“Handmade is warmer. I picked the softest wool I could find. You love the baby you’re carrying, and I love my daughter just as much.”

It hurt to think about how hard she had worked on it, and I was so touched that I could never bring myself to wear it.

Now it was gone.

I remembered the mess in the house and was about to call Ethan when I saw Blair’s latest social media post.

“Oh my God, newborn babies get cold so easily! I only mentioned it once, and someone immediately brought over the softest sweater ever. The babies say thank you, Daddy! And of course, huge credit to their amazing mama for the DIY makeover!”

So Ethan had gone to Blair’s pet boutique near Capitol Hill to celebrate the new litter with her.

In the photo, Blair’s carefully styled blond hair brushed against Ethan’s face.

They were practically cheek to cheek, each of them holding three puppies.

I recognized the puppies’ clothes immediately.

Those so-called custom outfits had all been cut from the sweater my mother made for me.

When I pushed open the glass door of the pet boutique, I found Ethan and Blair eating cake from the same spoon.

Ethan was a serious germaphobe.

At home, his utensils had to be disinfected and stored separately, and he always used serving tongs when taking food from a shared dish.

Once, after cleaning the house all day, I got so thirsty that I took one sip of water from his cup.

He said nothing at the time.

That night, the cup was in the trash.

Later, Ethan explained that years of working in a hospital had made him that way.

Apparently, his germophobia only existed when it came to me.

When Blair saw me, she swept her blond hair over one shoulder and smiled with open satisfaction.

“Oh my God, Erin. You actually came all the way here? Ethan and I have always been this close. You’re not seriously bothered by that too, are you?”

She turned to Ethan with a laugh.

“I told you. There’s no way she’d really divorce you. Her career went nowhere, and now she lives off you. How would she survive without you? She has a child to raise and parents to take care of. Of course she isn’t going anywhere. I’m different. I could never let someone else support me. I have to run my own shop and build my own career. Being an independent woman is exhausting.”

Ethan laughed and patted her hand.

“All right, all right. You’re the independent one.”

Then he looked at me as if I were the one who had done something wrong.