My Doctor Ex-Husband Delivered The Son He Never Knew Existed-myhoagroupp

“Thirty-seven weeks,” he said.

I nodded.

His eyes lifted slowly from the chart.

Seven months had passed since our divorce became final.

He could count.

I watched the realization move across his face as he reconstructed a timeline he had never known existed.

“Leah…”

“Don’t.”

I knew the question he wanted to ask.

The fear, hope, suspicion, and guilt were all visible in his eyes.

But our baby’s heart rate dipped again before he could speak.

The alarm turned every private wound between us into a secondary concern.

For the next stretch of time, Evan was not the husband who had failed me.

He was the physician responsible for my safety and the life of the child I had carried alone.

I hated how quickly the room responded to him.

I hated the calm authority in his voice.

Most of all, I hated that part of me still felt safer when he was in control.