Chapter 3

Veronica's voice drifted from my phone, soft and soothing, as if she were trying to calm an unreasonable child. I played the voice message again. She knew perfectly well that this was my anniversary trip. She knew I had never agreed to let her come. Yet there she sat in a Paris airport, dismissing my anger as "jealousy." My phone rang again. This time, it was Sophia. "Mom, did you get the hotel reinstated?" Those were the first words out of her mouth. She didn't even ask whether I was feeling all right. "No." "We found another hotel." Her tone was stiff. "But the rooms are tiny, and it costs several times what the original one did. Dad has been dealing with everything. He hasn't had any rest at all." "Those are the consequences of his actions." "Why do you have to be so heartless? You already set aside the money for this trip. What do you gain by canceling everything except humiliating all of us?" I pushed back the covers, got out of bed, and walked to the window. The street was deserted in the early hours of the morning. My reflection stared back at me from the glass, along with the bed behind me where I had slept alone. "Sophia, have you forgotten that I was supposed to be on that plane?" "But you're pregnant." "Being pregnant doesn't justify lying to me." "We were doing it for your own good!" she said, raising her voice. "A long flight is exhausting. What if something happened to the baby? Dad knew you wouldn't agree, so we decided not to tell you yet." "Not tell me yet?" I asked. "When exactly were you planning to tell me? After you got back from Paris, or after I saw the pictures from my anniversary dinner?" Sophia didn't answer. I continued, "Veronica knew from the beginning that I didn't want her on this trip, didn't she?" A brief rustling sound came through the phone. "She just thought it would be a waste not to go when everything had already been booked." "So the three of you weren't discussing whether to deceive me. You were discussing how to keep me at home." "Mom, do you have to make everything sound so awful?" I was about to respond when Sophia suddenly said to someone beside her, "You explain it to her. She won't listen to anything I say." The phone quickly changed hands. "Isabelle." Veronica spoke my name softly. "I'm sorry things turned out this way." "If you were truly sorry, you never would have boarded that plane." She paused, but her voice remained gentle. "Daniel was really looking forward to this trip. Ever since you became pregnant, he has been under a lot of stress trying to manage your emotions. I only wanted him to have a few days to relax." My hand tightened around the curtain. "What gives you the right to judge whether my husband is under stress?" "Because he chooses to tell me." Her answer came quickly, as if she had been waiting for me to ask. "For the past two years, he has often had dinner with me and helped me fix things around the house. He talks to me about the problems between you as well. He feels as though he always has to walk on eggshells at home because he's afraid of saying the wrong thing and upsetting you." "So you think you understand him better than I do?" "I didn't say that." She sighed softly. "But at least he can relax when he's with me. He doesn't have to constantly worry about a pregnant woman's emotions, and he doesn't have to follow an endless schedule for an anniversary." The cold slowly spread through my fingertips. So in Daniel's version of the story, the trip I had spent a year planning wasn't a gift. It was a burden. "I paid for and arranged this trip," I said. "You used my reservations to celebrate my wedding anniversary with my husband, and now you're telling me you did it to help him relax?" "I know this is difficult for you to accept," Veronica said. "But marriage shouldn't make someone this exhausted. If you truly love Daniel, perhaps you should ask yourself why he would rather bring me to Paris." At last, the mask of gentleness slipped away. "Put him back on the phone," I said. "Daniel went to the front desk to deal with the room. He's exhausted, and I don't want you upsetting him any further." She said it so naturally, as though she were the one entitled to protect my husband. I hung up. A few minutes later, Sophia sent me a photograph. It had been taken in the lobby of their new hotel. Daniel stood in the center, one arm around our daughter's shoulders and the other wrapped around Veronica's waist. Veronica gazed up at him with his coat still draped around her shoulders. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows behind them, the Eiffel Tower glowed in the distance. The three of them looked like a real family. Beneath the photograph was a message from Sophia: [We found somewhere to stay. Are you happy now?] I didn't reply. I enlarged the photograph and saw Daniel's wedding band on his ring finger. He was wearing the ring I had chosen for him while holding another woman in his arms. At that moment, I finally understood that the hotel and dinner weren't the only things that needed to be canceled. I opened my contacts and found the attorney who had handled a friend's divorce the year before. At 4:12 a.m., I sent her an email. [Hello. I would like to schedule a divorce consultation as soon as possible.]