We'd been married five years. Stable. Solid. People always say childbirth reveals whether the person beside you is human or monster.
When I saw his eyes rimmed red with anxiety, I'd felt a surge of relief.
Thank God I didn't choose wrong.
But once I was inside that room, the pain tore through me like I was being split in two. Veins bulged across my forehead and neck.
And Brendan? He stood off to the side. Indifferent. His only focus was holding up his phone, recording my face as it contorted in agony.
He'd called it "documenting the birth of our first child."
Then the baby shifted wrong. The doctor recommended an emergency C-section and asked him to stay a moment longer—just to talk to me, calm me down.
He didn't even look back. Just pocketed his phone and walked out.
"Brendan, look at this part—doesn't she look exactly like that porn star from the video we watched? The facial expression is identical. If you didn't know better, you'd think Naomi was—"
Charity rewound the video on her phone and cranked up the volume, replaying it.
I forced my eyes open. Stiff. Unblinking.
I saw Brendan lean in toward her screen. The mockery in their eyes was a perfect match.