My Composure After Divorce Became His Greatest Torment novel · Chapter 9 of 24

Chapter 9: Three A.M.

The emergency room at Mass General put me in a curtained bay at eleven that night, and Harrison signed the forms as my husband.

I watched him do it from the bed.

His handwriting shook, and he had to cross out the date and write it again.

"Spouse or emergency contact?" the clerk asked.

"Husband," Harrison said, and then his pen stopped. "For now."

"Harrison," I said from the bed. "Go sit down."

"I'm fine."

"You're not. You're white."

"So are you."

He sat on the plastic chair next to my bed, and he did not take his eyes off my face.

The resident came in with a clipboard and a tired smile.

"Mrs. Rutherford? The bleeding is a small subchorionic hematoma. It's common at your stage, and stress makes it worse." She turned the screen toward me. "Heartbeat is strong."

The speaker clicked, and the heartbeat filled the bay again, steady and fast.

I let my head drop back on the pillow.

Harrison made a sound and put his hand over his eyes.

"That's twice you've heard it," I said.

"I know."

"And twice it's made you cry."

"I know," he said into his palm.

"Three days of bed rest," the resident said. "No stairs, no work, no stress, no exceptions. Is someone at home with you?"

"I live on the fourth floor," I said. "The elevator's broken."

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