“You really can’t postpone it?” I asked.
He sighed, as though I were being unreasonable.
“Amelia, the guys already paid for the rental house. Flights are booked. It’s just a quick trip.”
A quick trip.
For him, maybe. For me, it felt like abandonment.
Still, I didn’t fight harder. Part of me was too exhausted to argue.
So, two days later, Jason kissed the top of Oliver’s head, grabbed his suitcase, and headed out the door.
“Text me if you need anything,” he said.
Then he left.
The first night alone was brutal.
Oliver woke every two hours, crying for milk. Each time, I carefully pushed myself up from bed, clutching my abdomen as the incision throbbed. Walking to the crib felt like climbing a mountain.
By 3 a.m., I was sitting in the rocking chair, half-asleep, holding Oliver while he finally drifted off.
Tears slipped down my cheeks.
