My ex called to invite me to his wedding. I told him I’d just given birth, thirty minutes later, he came running into my hospital room and in that moment, I understood why he was really sca:red.

I never imagined that six months after my divorce I would hear my former husband’s voice again, especially not while lying in a hospital bed in Cedar Falls with my newborn daughter sleeping beside me and the scent of disinfectant hanging in the air like a reminder that life had changed forever. My phone buzzed on the small table next to a cup of cold tea, and when I saw the name on the screen, a name I had sworn never to let back into my heart, my fingers froze before finally sliding across the answer button.

“Aaron,” I said quietly, careful not to wake the baby, my voice rough from exhaustion and disbelief.

His voice sounded strangely cheerful, almost rehearsed. “Brianna, I am getting married this weekend, and I thought it would be polite to invite you.”

For a moment I wondered if I was dreaming, because the absurdity of the situation felt unreal. I let out a short laugh that carried no joy. “Aaron, I just gave birth. I am not attending any wedding.”

Silence stretched between us. Then his voice flattened, emotion draining out as if he had switched off a light. “Alright. I just wanted to tell you.”