over some clothes.”
“So humiliating your pregnant wife is acceptable?”
“Anna, you’re exhausted. You’re making this bigger than it needs to be.”
I stared at him.
Four years earlier, I’d married a man who used to warm my car on freezing mornings and bring dinner when my hospital shifts ran late.
Now that same man was telling me I was unreasonable for wanting my own clothes.
I went upstairs and photographed the empty closet.
Then I sent Tara a message.
Nick gave you my maternity wardrobe without asking me. I
