“Elena, slow down,” I had begged. “We can talk after the girls are asleep.”
“That’s all we ever do, David,” she snapped. “Talk. Count bills. Stretch groceries. And pretend this is enough.”
I shifted Maya higher against my chest. “They are enough.”
Elena looked at our baby, then at me.
“For you, maybe.”
“You can’t just walk out on six children.”
Her eyes flashed. “You can’t give me the life I want. But Julian can. He bought me a brand-new car and even took me to the Maldives, David. Do you understand the kind of life he gives me? The kind of life I deserve?”
“Elena,” I whispered. “Our daughter can hear you.”
She glanced at Chloe. “Then maybe she’ll learn not to settle.”
Then she slammed the door: no kiss for Maya, no promise to call, just the door closing and six girls becoming my whole world at once.
