Page 142 of The Wright Man

"I was scared," she whispered. "But… he was ecstatic. I remember thinking, maybe this would change something between us. Maybe this was the thing."

I swallowed, hard. My heart knew where this was going, and still it didn't prepare me.

"And then… first prenatal visit. No heartbeat."

I dropped my head. Fuck. My whole body ached for her. I wanted to take that pain and burn it down to ash.

"It was brief," she said. "But it showed me something. I did want to be a mom. So we started trying. On purpose this time."

Her tone turned flat, mechanical.

"Two more pregnancies. Two more losses. The third one made it to ten weeks. I buried myself in work after each one, and each time I felt like I lost a little more of myself."

She exhaled, shaky and hard.

"Gavin blamed me."

The way she said it—calm, direct—made it hit like a brick through glass.

"He said there was something wrong with me. That I was working too much. That that's why I couldn't stay pregnant."

I clenched my jaw until it ached. That blood-fire inside me returned, and it was getting harder to sit still.

"I finally agreed to cut back," she said. "When I got pregnant the fourth time… I barely left the house. Avoided the salon altogether by the third trimester. Just sat in the quiet. Waited. Hoped."

I saw the memory flicker across her face like a shadow. She was so deep in it she didn't notice my knuckles were white.

"Somewhere around twenty-five weeks, we got into a fight over baby names," she said. "I wanted something that felt right. He claimed he didn't care. Said we were having a girl, so he refused to even talk about it."

And then her eyes lifted. Found mine.

"I missed you. So damn much," she whispered.

My heart stopped.

"I didn't know if I'd ever speak to you again after the wedding. And I hated that. So I named her Maleeka."

The air left my lungs.

"I ordered a pink baby blanket with her name stitched in gold. It was… the first thing I did that felt right in months."

She smiled at the memory, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"Gavin found it."

I didn't realize I'd moved until I noticed how tight my body had gotten. I hadn't blinked in what felt like minutes.

"He lost it," she said. "Accused me of all kinds of wild shit. Said the baby was yours. Said he'd divorce me if I named his daughter that. Yelled. Ranted. Lost his mind."

She stared into the middle distance again.

"I couldn't deal with it. So I started to head to the salon. Just… needed to breathe. To be in a space that still felt like me."

I held my breath.

"One wrong step getting into the car…"

She closed her eyes. Tears fell without effort now. Soft and steady.