Not because of the baby.
Because of him.
That night, he packed a suitcase.
Not many clothes.
Just enough to let me know another place was already waiting.
“I’m going to Paola,” he said, without shame.
Paola.
His coworker.
The woman who used to text me for recipes.
The woman who once told me, “Lauri, your marriage is so beautiful.”
The woman who had apparently been waiting for a chance to take my place.
The next day, my mother-in-law arrived with two black bags.
Not to comfort me.
To collect Diego’s belongings.
“How shameful, Laura,” she said, looking at my stomach as if it were already evidence against me. “Diego didn’t deserve this.”
“I didn’t cheat on him.”
She gave me a pitying smile.
“They all say that.”
Within a week, half the neighborhood knew.
