My phone lay flat on the Formica beside my paper cup. I had uploaded the first batch of copied files to a secure cloud drive before my shift started, and now I scrolled through the scanned pages of Victoria’s digital diary.
The entry was dated October fourteenth, three years ago, the exact Tuesday I had been discharged from the obstetrics wing after the monitors went silent in my thirty-sixth week.
“Clara is completely untethered now,” Victoria had typed in her neat, bulleted format. “Julian is staying late at his clinic because he cannot stand the silence in their house. This is the perfect window to introduce him to Gwen’s financial struggles.”
I leaned my head back against the vinyl booth, my silver nurse’s watch catching the bright overhead light as I adjusted the metal strap. Victoria had not simply offered to help me pack up the nursery while I sat on the living room floor. She had been taking notes on how many hours Julian spent away from the apartment.
