Dawn slowly rose over Lyon, with a golden light sliding between the red rooftops of the Fourvière hill. Elise walked slowly through the small apartment in Croix-Rousse, with one hand resting on her round belly, almost ready for delivery. Each step required great effort, but still, tenderly, she whispered:
“Hold on a little longer, love… it won’t be long, we’ll finally meet.”
Marc, on the other hand, didn’t even glance at her.
Since the pregnancy started, the attentive man she once knew had turned into a complete stranger. Everything bothered him: the smell of food, her restless nights, her shallow breathing. He treated Elise as if motherhood had made her invisible.
One evening, while she carefully folded the baby’s clothes, he spoke in a dry voice:
“Next month, you’ll give birth at your parents’ house in Annecy. Everything is too expensive here. There, a midwife will take care of you for almost nothing. I’m not going to waste my money.”
Elise felt tears welling up in her eyes.
“But Marc… I’m nine months pregnant. The trip is long… I could give birth on the way…”
He shrugged indifferently.
“That’s your problem. At least there you’ll stop complaining.”