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Because my brain refused to believe what I was hearing.
“I just gave birth.”
He shrugged.
“That doesn’t change the seats.”
Chapter 3: The Car I Helped Buy
The absurdity hit me all at once.
That car existed because of me.
When my father died, I sold his lake house. Part of the money went into savings. Part paid bills. And part went toward the vehicle Logan insisted our growing family needed
For months, he had obsessed over it.
He researched leather conditioners.
Compared luxury packages.
Spent more time reading car forums than helping assemble the crib.
Standing there outside the hospital, holding our newborn daughter, I suddenly saw everything differently.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I paid too much for this car,” he replied.
I stared at him.
My body hurt everywhere.
My daughter weighed barely seven pounds.
And somehow, she was still more important to me than those seats could ever be.
“What exactly do you want me to do?” I asked.
Logan looked at me as if the answer should have been obvious.
“Call a cab.”
Chapter 4: The Man Who Drove Away
The words landed like a slap.
“You want me to take our newborn home in a taxi because you’re worried about the car?”
Logan’s face tightened with irritation.
“My seats cost more than your entire wardrobe,” he said. “I’m not ruining them on day one.”
I looked at him, waiting for common sense to return.
It did not.
“Logan,” I whispered.
He opened the driver’s door.
Then he got inside.
I stood frozen.
Surely he was not actually leaving.
Surely nobody could be this selfish.
The engine started.
And then he drove away.