Chapter 4 - THE SECOND PHONE
I found Mark’s second phone because it vibrated beneath the passenger seat of his truck.
He had asked me to move the truck out of the driveway so Diane could park closer to the house.
Normally, I would have refused.
That evening, I said yes.
The moment I started the engine, I heard the buzzing.
I reached beneath the seat.
My fingers closed around a black phone I had never seen before.
No case.
No family photo on the screen.
No notifications except one.
Diane.
The preview read: SHE’S CALMER NOW.
My stomach dropped.
The message disappeared when the screen locked.
I sat perfectly still.
Then I heard the front door open.
I pushed the phone back under the seat.
Mark walked toward the truck.
I forced myself to smile.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
He opened the driver’s door.
“Mom said you were moving it.”
“I was.”
He kissed my cheek.
The tenderness felt obscene.
That night, I barely slept.
At 2:17 a.m., Mark got out of bed.
I kept my breathing slow.
He walked into the bathroom.
The light came on beneath the door.
A minute later, I heard the faintest murmur of his voice.
He was talking to someone.
I couldn’t hear the words.
But I knew.
When he returned, I pretended to be asleep.
The next morning, I texted Laura.
SECOND PHONE.
She replied five minutes later.
DO NOT TAKE IT.
DOCUMENT WHAT YOU CAN LEGALLY ACCESS.
I understood.
I spent the day acting normal.
At lunch, Diane asked whether I had considered letting her stay with us for the first two months after the baby came.
“No.”
The answer escaped before I could soften it.
Her eyes narrowed.
Mark looked up from his plate.
I added quickly, “I think we’ll want time to bond as a family first.”
Diane’s expression changed.
“Family?”
“Yes.”
She smiled without warmth.
“I am family.”
“Of course.”
I took another bite.
She watched me.
I had become aware of the way she studied me.
Not like a mother.
Not even like an enemy.
Like a witness.
That afternoon, while Mark showered, his regular phone lit up on the kitchen counter.
A calendar reminder appeared.
CONSULT - HART FAMILY SERVICES - 4:00.
I took a picture.
Then I searched the name from my own phone.
Hart Family Services offered custody evaluations, parenting assessments, supervised exchange support, and family intervention planning.
My hands started shaking.
I sent the screenshot to Laura.
Her response came instantly.
CALL ME.
I went outside and walked to the end of the driveway.
“Could he already be arranging an evaluation?” I whispered.
“Possibly.”
“Before the baby is even born?”
“Possibly.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we stop assuming this is informal.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“Laura, I live with him.”
“I know.”
“I sleep next to him.”
“I know.”
“He touches my stomach every night.”
Laura’s voice softened.
“Emily, you need to leave before they decide the timing for you.”
I looked back at the house.
Through the front window, I could see Diane walking through the living room.
She had started moving things again.
My things.
The throw pillows I had bought.
The framed wedding photo beside the staircase.
My own mother’s vase.
Diane kept rearranging the home as if she were preparing for a future where I no longer lived there.
“When?” I asked.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Mark will be at work.”
“Good.”
“And Diane?”
“Can your sister help?”
“Yes.”
“Take your essential documents, medications, hospital supplies, baby items, and anything personally valuable.”
“Do I tell him?”
“Leave a written message saying you are staying with your sister because the household conflict is affecting your well-being and that you are safe.”
“Will that look like I abandoned the home?”
“No.”
“What about the baby?”
“The baby is inside you, Emily.”
Despite everything, I laughed once.
Laura continued.
“Do not disappear.”
“Do not block him.”
“Do not threaten to keep the baby from him.”
“We are not going to behave the way they hope you will.”
I nodded even though she couldn’t see me.
“Okay.”
That night, Mark lay beside me with one hand over my stomach.
Our daughter kicked.
He smiled.
“She’s strong.”
I stared at the ceiling.
“Yes.”
“She gets that from me.”
I turned my head and looked at him.
“No.”
He laughed softly.
“No?”
I placed my palm over the place where the baby had moved.
“I think she gets it from me.”
Mark’s smile faded slightly.
For a second, I wondered whether he sensed the difference.
Then he closed his eyes.
At 5:30 the next morning, I got up.
At 6:40, Mark left for work.
At 7:15, Rachel pulled into my driveway.
May you like
At 7:18, I carried the repaired hospital bag out of the house.
This time, no one threw it on the floor.
