“James!” she called, but the sound was swallowed by the engine and the rain. The taillights disappeared down the street, red streaks fading into gray. She stood there in the cold for a long time, until her arms started to shake. Then she went back inside, locked the door, and dialed his number. It rang twice before going to voicemail. She tried again. And again.
By the fourth call, the line went dead. When she texted, it didn’t deliver. He had blocked her. For hours, she sat at the kitchen table, staring at her phone, replaying every conversation of the past week in her head. Maybe it was her fault. Maybe he was overwhelmed, or scared, or finally realizing fatherhood wasn’t what he imagined.