"Oh, absolutely!" I said, dripping with sarcasm. "You were in a meeting, and not spending the night with May, right?"
"How many times have I told you—"
I cut him off, unable to stomach another lame excuse. The line went dead, and I sighed in frustration. I took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling the anger simmering inside me.
My phone buzzed on the table, a text message from Lucas. I thought he finally understood me, but I was wrong again.
"I'm sorry. But let's forget about it."
"An apology without remorse." I whispered to myself as I let out a bitter scoff.
He sent me another message: "But why has my shirt not been ironed yet? And you don't even prepare breakfast for me."
My frustration boiled over again. Here I was, reeling from the loss of our child, and all he could think of was his basic needs. What a jerk!
A sudden knock on my clinic door startled me. "Come in," I said.
The Nurse stepped in and smiled. "Good morning, Dr. Claire! The Supervisor wants to see you."
"Oh? Uh, yeah, thanks. I'll be right there."
The Nurse left, and after a few seconds, I followed her down the hallway and into the Supervisor's office.
"Hi, Claire," he said as I entered. "Come on in."