Chapter 2 - The Midnight Departure and the Empty House**
I didn't argue with him. I didn't scream, cry, or throw a fit. I simply smiled—a tight, terrifyingly sweet smile that made Derek briefly pause in confusion as he headed toward the living room to turn on the game.
"You're right, honey," I said smoothly, my voice devoid of emotion. "You must be exhausted. Why don't you go relax? I'll handle everything."
Derek grunted in satisfaction, completely oblivious to the ticking time bomb he had just ignored.
As soon as the house fell quiet around midnight, save for the soft white noise machine in the nursery, I went to work. I had already packed my bags over the last two days while Derek was at the office, storing them quietly in the trunk of my sedan with the help of a neighbor friend who had snuck over. I left my heavy cast-arm elevated on a pillow, but my left hand was fast and efficient.
I left a neatly folded stack of instructions on the kitchen island, right next to a massive pyramid of diapers, formula cans, burp cloths, and a printed schedule detailing every feeding, nap, and colic trigger for both boys.
Then, I slipped out into the cool night air, climbed into my car, and drove straight to my parents' house, where a warm bed, a mother waiting with homemade soup, and absolute peace awaited me.
For the first twelve hours, my phone remained silent. I slept ten uninterrupted hours for the first time in five months. My soul felt lighter, though an undercurrent of nervous anticipation thrummed in my veins.
By 9:00 AM the next morning, the notifications started.
First, a missed call from Derek. Then a text: Chloe, where are you?
Ten minutes later: Chloe, stop playing games. Liam won't stop crying and Leo just spit up all over the rug. Where is the extra formula?
I didn't reply. I simply muted notifications for his number, sat back on the porch with a cup of chamomile tea, and watched the morning sun rise over my parents' garden. Let the lesson begin.
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Back at our suburban home, Derek was discovering what 'doing nothing all day' actually entailed.
According to the security camera app on my phone—which I checked with mounting amusement—Derek had spent the first two hours trying to feed two starving babies simultaneously while wearing his expensive business-casual button-down shirt. By noon, he looked like a refugee from a natural disaster. His hair was wildly disheveled, his shirt was stained with curdled formula and baby drool, and he was pacing the living room floor with a screaming infant in each arm, muttering curses under his breath that would have made a sailor blush.
