Chapter 1: The Christmas Eve I Lost Everything
At 11:47 p.m. on Christmas Eve, my eight-month-pregnant wife stood beside our Christmas tree, one hand resting on her belly, and told me to spend the night with my ex-girlfriend.
I thought she was giving me permission.
I didn't realize she was saying goodbye.
"Go spend Christmas with her, Daniel.""
Emma's voice was so quiet that I almost missed it beneath the soft Christmas music playing in the living room.
I stood near the front door, holding my car keys and wearing the navy wool coat she'd bought me for my birthday. Outside, snow covered the driveway. Inside, the fireplace crackled, and the little white lights on our Christmas tree reflected in the windows.
Everything looked perfect.
My wife didn't.
She was wearing her favorite cream-colored sweater, the one she'd started wearing almost every evening since her pregnancy made most of her clothes uncomfortable. Her dark hair was tied loosely behind her head. A strand had fallen across her cheek.
She looked tired.
Not the ordinary tiredness of someone carrying a baby.
Something deeper.
"Emma, we've already talked about this," I said, checking my watch.
"Rachel needs someone tonight. Her father is getting worse, and Christmas is probably going to be difficult for her.""
Emma looked down at her stomach.
"I know.""
"I won't be long. Maybe an hour or two.""
She nodded.
"Okay.""
I frowned.
"You're not upset?""
She slowly raised her eyes.
"Would it change anything if I were?""
I felt an uncomfortable pinch in my chest.
"Of course it would.""
"Then why are you still holding your keys?""
I looked at my hand.
She was right.
I had been standing there for several minutes, already mentally somewhere else.
"Emma, don't make this into something it isn't. Rachel is going through a terrible time. Her husband died, her father is dying, and she doesn't have many people here.""
Emma gave a small, humorless smile.
"And what do I have, Daniel?""
I exhaled.
"You have me.""
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she looked toward the Christmas tree.
"Do I?""
That question should have stopped me.
It should have made me put down my keys, walk across the room, and ask my wife what had happened to make her feel so alone.
Instead, I checked my phone.
Rachel had sent another message.
I'm sorry to bother you. Are you still coming?
I typed back.
Leaving now.
Emma watched my fingers move.
"She's waiting for you?""
"Yes.""
"Then you should go.""
I approached her and kissed her forehead.
"Try to get some sleep. I'll bring you something from the bakery tomorrow.""
She didn't lean into the kiss.
She didn't pull away either.
She simply stood there, one hand on her belly, while I opened the door.
"Daniel?""
I turned.
"Yeah?""
"Do you remember what you promised me when we found out we were having a baby?""
I smiled impatiently.
"That I'd be the best father in the world?""
"No.""
Her voice trembled.
"You promised I would never have to feel alone again.""
I stared at her.
"Emma, I haven't broken that promise.""
She looked at me for several seconds.
Then she whispered, "Merry Christmas.""
I left.
The drive to Rachel's house took twenty-three minutes.
Snow fell steadily, and the radio played an old Christmas song I remembered from childhood. I turned up the volume and tried to shake off the uncomfortable feeling Emma had left behind.
Rachel lived in a small house on the other side of town. Her porch light was on, and a wreath hung crookedly on the front door.
When I knocked, she opened it almost immediately.
"Daniel.""
She looked thinner than I remembered. Her eyes were red, and she wore an oversized gray cardigan over her pajamas.
"I'm sorry," she said, stepping aside.
"I know it's Christmas Eve.""
"Don't apologize.""
She gave me a tired smile.
"Come in. I made coffee, but it's probably terrible.""
Her living room was filled with unopened boxes. A framed photograph of her late husband sat on the mantelpiece, surrounded by candles.
I remembered him.
Mark had been a decent man. We'd met several times at social gatherings, and he'd always treated me warmly despite knowing Rachel and I had dated years earlier.
His absence made the house feel painfully empty.
"How's your dad?"" I asked.
Rachel wrapped both hands around her mug.
"The doctors say there isn't much more they can do.""
"I'm sorry.""
"He asked about you yesterday.""
"About me?""
She nodded.
"He remembered how you used to help me with everything in college. He said you were always dependable.""
I looked down.
"I don't know about that.""
Rachel laughed weakly.
"Some things don't change.""
We talked for nearly an hour.
She told me about her father's hospital visits, the funeral arrangements she'd already begun thinking about, and how difficult it had been to return to a town where nearly everyone reminded her of the life she'd lost.
I listened.
I genuinely did.
But every so often, my phone vibrated.
Emma.
Or so I hoped.
It was never Emma.
At 11:52 p.m., Rachel glanced at the screen.
"Your wife?""
"No. Just work.""
"Daniel, you should probably go home.""
"It's fine.""
"Really. I don't want to cause problems.""
I shook my head.
"You aren't causing anything.""
Rachel looked at me.
"Is Emma comfortable with you being here?""
I remembered Emma's words.
Go spend Christmas with her.
"She told me to come.""
Rachel's expression changed slightly.
"She did?""
"Yes.""
Rachel stared into her coffee.
"That's interesting.""
"What?""
"Nothing.""
I leaned back.
"Rachel, if you have something to say, say it.""
She shook her head.
"Just be careful, Daniel. Sometimes people say they're okay because they're tired of asking someone to care.""
I looked at her.
For the second time that evening, someone had said something that should have made me think.
I ignored it.
At 12:18 a.m., I finally stood.
"I should get home.""
Rachel walked me to the door.
"Thank you for coming.""
"Anytime.""
She hesitated.
"Daniel?""
"Yeah?""
"Don't let your family become something you only appreciate when it's gone.""
I gave her a reassuring smile.
"Everything's fine.""
She didn't smile back.
The drive home was quieter.
By the time I reached our neighborhood, the snow had become heavier. I parked in the driveway and noticed that the living room lights were still on.
I expected Emma to be asleep on the couch.
Instead, I found the front door unlocked.
"Emma?""
No answer.
The Christmas tree was still glowing.
The fireplace had burned down to a few red embers.
A cup of tea sat on the coffee table, untouched.
And on the kitchen table was a white envelope.
My name was written across it in Emma's handwriting.
I opened it.
There was only one sentence.
I hope someday you understand why I had to leave before you could ask me to stay.
I read it once.
Then again.
Then a third time.
My throat tightened.
"Emma?""
I searched the bedroom.
Her winter coat was gone.
So was the small overnight bag she'd been using to pack maternity clothes for the hospital.
I opened the closet.
Half her sweaters were missing.
Her favorite boots were gone.
The little jewelry box her grandmother had given her was no longer on the dresser.
I rushed downstairs and called her.
Voicemail.
I called again.
Voicemail.
Then I sent a message.
Where are you? Please call me. This isn't funny.
I waited.
Nothing.
I called her best friend, Lauren.
She answered after four rings.
"Daniel? Do you know what time it is?""
"Is Emma with you?""
Silence.
"What happened?"" Lauren asked.
"She's gone. I came home, and she's gone.""
Lauren took a sharp breath.
"You're telling me you just noticed?""
The question hit me harder than I expected.
"What does that mean?""
"Daniel, she needed you tonight.""
"I know. But I was only gone a few hours.""
Lauren's voice became cold.
"That was the problem. You always think you're only gone a few hours.""
I gripped the kitchen counter.
"Where is she?""
"I can't tell you that.""
"Lauren, she's eight months pregnant!""
"And she was eight months pregnant when she stood in that house waiting for you to come back, too.""
She hung up.
I stood in the kitchen, staring at my phone.
For the first time, I noticed something strange.
The small Christmas stocking we'd hung for our unborn son was missing.
Not the others.
Just his.
And beside the empty space on the mantelpiece was a photograph of Emma holding our first ultrasound.
Someone had turned it face down.
I rushed upstairs, pulled on my boots, and grabbed my car keys.
I didn't know where my wife had gone.
But as I drove into the snow-covered streets, one thought became impossible to ignore.
Emma hadn't left in anger.
She had prepared to leave.
And whatever had happened tonight, it hadn't started when I walked out the door.
May you like
It had started long before Christmas Eve.
And I was only beginning to understand how much I had missed.
