“Miles is sleeping. I’m okay.”
When I asked about food, she paused.
“Your mom made something earlier.”
“Something good?”
“Just soup.”
Beverly interrupted from nearby.
“Natalie needs to rest, Wesley. Stop keeping her awake.”
The conversation ended before I could ask whether Natalie needed food, rest, or anything else. I told myself Beverly was simply being protective.
The next morning, Natalie didn’t answer. At lunch, Beverly messaged that she was sleeping and Miles was fine. That evening, Mallory picked up Natalie’s phone.
“She’s busy with the baby. Seriously, Wes, you’re checking in like every five minutes.”
“I haven’t spoken to my wife all day.”
“Because she’s exhausted. Let her breathe.”
I disliked the way she spoke, especially after I had gone all day without hearing Natalie’s voice, but I assumed everyone was learning how exhausting a newborn could be.
On the third morning, the bank alerted me to a $340 electronics-store purchase on Natalie’s debit card.
