“I can do that.”
He froze.
That was another small boundary.
Another decision that no longer belonged to him.
The neighbor helped me get comfortable while I called my prenatal clinic. I explained what had happened without embellishing it. I told them about the ankle injury, the fall into the mud, the rain, and the fact that I was pregnant.
They told me to come in for an evaluation.
My husband heard every word.
When I ended the call, he said, “I’ll take you.”
“No.”
His face fell.
“Then I’ll follow you.”
I looked at him for a long moment.
“Don’t.”
He stared at me.
“Please.”
That word almost made me look away.
Almost.
But I remembered his hands tightening the knot.
I remembered the way he had stepped back afterward, inspecting the result.
I remembered that he had not looked frightened until he discovered I had escaped.
