My Husband Lost My Jealousy novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: Okay, I Understand
Katja watches her husband cheat with the same woman, straightens his tie and offers the guest room, then finds her old hospital chart says nobody told him about her baby.
Desmond had his hand on Selene Baird's back when I walked into the restaurant with my friend.
It was the third year since we got back together, and it was the same woman as before.
He saw me and let his hand drop.
"Katja." His voice was easy and bright. "You remember Selene. She's a client. We're finishing a contract."
Then he stepped in front of her with one arm half raised, and he watched my hands.
He was waiting for me to throw something.
I used to.
I walked up to him instead and fixed his tie where it had slipped sideways.
"Okay," I said. "Don't drink too much. Take the spare key, I'll be asleep."
His eyes came down to my face and stayed there.
"Actually, leave the key on the hook," I said. "I won't hear the door either way."
Selene leaned around his shoulder and gave me a small, nervous smile.
"Mrs. Carrow, I love your coat," she said. "I hope we're not in your way."
"Not at all," I said. "Enjoy the sea bass."
The Kestrel Room was so quiet that I could hear a fork touch a plate three tables away.
Every table had a single rose on it and two people who were pretending to be in love.
I gave Selene a nod, turned and walked to our table.
My friend Marit waited until the waiter had left.
"Why aren't you angry?" she asked.
"There's nothing to be angry about. He's here with a client."
Marit looked at me for a long time.
I knew what she was thinking, and I let her think it.
Getting angry had cost me too much once. I was not going to pay it twice.
When dinner ended, my ride app said ten minutes, then fourteen, then nineteen.
Desmond's car was idling at the curb with the back door unlocked.
I got in.
Selene was in the front seat, and she turned around with an apologetic face.
"I get carsick in the back," she said. "Desmond let me have this seat. It doesn't mean anything, please don't think that."
"Of course not," I said.
I dug a small box out of my bag and held it between the seats.
"Motion patches. They work. Put one behind your ear."
She took it and said thank you, and her fingers brushed mine.
On her wrist there was a thin gold bracelet with one charm on it, a tiny cradle.
Desmond's hands tightened on the wheel.
Nobody said anything for a long time.
Rain started on the windshield.
"Drop Katja off first," Selene said. "She's closer."
"Sure," Desmond said.
"No need," I said at the same time.
Then I thought I understood what he wanted, and I tried to help.
"It's late, and the roads are bad. Selene, stay with us tonight. I'll text the housekeeper to make up the guest room for you."
The car stopped so hard that my forehead hit the back of her seat.
Desmond turned his head and said it low and flat.
"Get out."
I had misjudged him again.
I said nothing.
I took my folding umbrella out of my bag, opened the door and stepped into the road.
The umbrella was useless.
Desmond pulled away and drove through a puddle, and the water went over my shoes and up to my knees.
I stood there until I couldn't see his taillights.
Then I texted Marit.
She came in six minutes and looked at the water running off my sleeves.
"You did this to yourself," she said.
"I know."
"Then leave him."
"I can't."
It wasn't love that kept me there.
My mother, Agnes, lived in a memory care home that cost eleven thousand four hundred dollars a month, and the Carrow family trust paid every cent while I was Desmond's wife.
I did not have another way to pay it.
Marit drove me home, and neither of us talked.
The house was dark.
I stood in the hall and dripped on the floor.
On the table by the door there was a thick envelope from Mercy General Hospital.
I had asked for it a week ago, for the first time in three years.
I wanted one true thing in my hands before I started planning how to leave.
I sat down on the stairs and opened it.
It was my own chart from the night of the fall.
Diagnosis: spontaneous pregnancy loss, nine weeks.
I had known that part for three years.
I turned the page.
Next of kin notified: none.
Beside it, in a nurse's small blue handwriting: Mother-in-law at the desk, asked that the family not be called.
Hester Carrow had stood beside my bed that night and told me Desmond already knew.
She told me he knew and had chosen to stay with Selene.
I had signed everything she put in front of me because I believed her.
I read the line again.
Then I put the page flat on my knee and understood that Desmond had never been told.
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