Chapter 1

Genevieve

"Sorry, babe, here's one more," my husband Rhett said, placing a dirty plate in the now empty side of our double-sided sink.

Not even bothering to look at me, he had his face in his phone as he walked back to his usual spot on the couch in front of the television.

I gripped the edge of the sink, letting my head hang, trying to curb my frustration. After spending the last thirty minutes washing the two sinks full of dishes that he promised to do at least seventeen times this week, he had the audacity to place a dirty, crusty, probably sitting out for a week plate in my clean sink.

"Yeah, sure, I got it," I said, not even bothering to hide the bite in my tone. Not that it mattered; he was scrolling through random videos on his phone, too busy to notice when I'm struggling.

Looking at the plate, I sighed again and reached for the dish soap, squeezing the bottle to coat the crusty remnants of what I assumed was ketchup. I was about to dive in and get my arm workout scrubbing this plate when my phone vibrated on the counter, catching my attention.

Great. Haven't you been cruel enough to me, Universe? I thought to myself as I shut the water off and dried my hands on the kitchen towel I left on the counter.

"Hi, Mom," I said, not trying very hard to hide my exasperation.

"Good evening, Genevieve. How was your day?"

She almost sounded like she was genuinely curious, and not like the narcissistic, manipulative mother I knew.

"It was fine, Mom. How was yours?" I replied as I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to hold back my stress tears.

"Oh, it was lovely. I got to see Gemma's baby at her twenty-week appointment today! We have a gender!"

Again with my baby sister's pregnancy. Don't get me wrong, I'm over the moon happy for her and her husband… Her very new husband of six months. All they had to do was talk about having a baby, and bam, she's pregnant. Me? Rhett and I have been trying for three years. Seven miscarriages and two failed IVF treatments later, I'm here. Failing. At least in my mother's eyes, I am.

"Oh, that's great, Mom," I forced out with a shaky breath.

"At least I'll finally have a grandbaby to dote on. I've been waiting so long." She sighed like she was in a daydream. "Well, anyway, maybe you should talk to Gemma. She has been using this vitamin that might help you with your issues getting pregnant."

"Sure, Mom. I'll talk to her." I didn't fight the tears this time, but forced them to fall silently and muted the phone so I could release my sniffle.

Leaning my back against the edge of the counter, I picked at the seam of the hand towel I was still holding, trying to calm my anxiety.

"Anyway, the reason for my call is to let you know that I need help planning the gender reveal party. Since you're home all day, I figured you could help me. I'll bring coffee over tomorrow morning."

"Mom… Tomorrow is Friday. I'm working," I sighed again, instantly regretting saying I was working.

Because all I do is…

"Oh, Genni, come on. All you do is sit at a desk. I'm sure you can sneak away for an hour."

There it is.

"Mom, it's not that easy. I'm working a full time job. I can't just ‘sneak away for an hour,' they monitor my productivity. I'm not just sitting here on my ass doing nothing all day!"

"Fine, Genevieve, fine. I'll just do it all myself like I always do. God forbid I want to spend an hour with my daughter."

The line went dead.

Tossing the hand towel onto the countertop, I stared at my now dark phone screen. I could see the trail down my cheeks, my tears left behind in my reflection as all of my pain surfaced at once.

Unable to control myself, I slammed my phone case down onto the countertop over and over as the sobs ravaged my body. After one last slam, I threw my phone as hard as I could across the kitchen toward the hallway.

"Everything alright in there, Gen?" Rhett called out, still not bothering to peel his eyes from his cell phone.

"Fine. I'm going to get ready for bed," I said, monotone.

"It's only seven, are you alright?"

Ignoring him, I stormed off toward the hallway, swiped my phone off the floor, and slammed the bathroom door shut. Finally alone and safe, I let the tears fall as I sank to the floor against the closed bathroom door, dropping my phone to the floor.

The tightness began building in my chest as I tried to suppress the growing anxiety attack. Pulling my knees to my chest, I hugged my legs, resting my cheek on my knees. Each inhale made the tightness worse, and I gasped, trying to get enough oxygen.

Why did I answer my phone…? Why…?

As I began hyperventilating, I heard the muffled sound of the front door opening and closing. Soon after, I could hear Rhett talking to his best friend, Dominic.

What is Dom doing here?

Shifting to grip my hair on either side of my head, I closed my fists near my scalp, tugging until I felt pain, trying to keep me grounded and in the present. My hyperventilating became worse, and I knew it wasn't going to end well for me.

Remembering my safety checklist my ex-therapist had given me, I slid my shaking body away from the door so I wasn't blocking the entrance and leaned back into the cool glass of our shower door. Black spots began dancing around my periphery, and I knew a fainting episode was coming. The room began to spin, and I had to think of how to get Rhett's or Dom's attention for help. With all the remaining strength I had left, I reached my trembling hand toward my phone on the floor and tossed it onto the sink, knocking our glass container filled with cotton swabs onto the floor. It shattered as the world went black, and I fell to the floor on my side.