I’m in a hospital gown, and a screen records the thumpthumpthump of the babies’ heartbeats. They are alive. I am alive. Oh, my heart—I’d thought, as I fell, it was all over. I blink back tears, press my hands to my growing belly. We’re okay. My babies and me, at least. Because I don’t know if there is anyone else left. Jaxon’s rumbling voice, calling out my name, asking me to stay with him in the car, rings through my head as I remember what happened before I tripped and fell. I told Jaxon we were done. We fought at the doctor appointment. We’re too different, from different worlds, with different dreams—and he never asked for me to stay, to be his. He agreed to let me live at his cabin after I pushed my way in. This housewife-game I’ve been playing at all month was a one-sided daydream that ended with me in a hospital bed, waking up from a nightmare.
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