The room blurred. My stitches throbbed, my whole body felt hollow, and yet that pain was nothing compared to the humiliation burning through me.
“Mom,” I whispered, “I just wanted to tell you—”
She cut me off. “Stop crying. Nobody cares. Call somebody else.” Then she hung up.
I lowered the phone slowly and stared at the dark screen until I realized my hands were shaking. Lily stirred in my arms, opening her tiny mouth as if she sensed my distress. I pressed my lips to her forehead and tried not to let my tears fall onto her blanket.
“You matter,” I whispered to her. “You are not trash. You are everything.”
A nurse stepped in and immediately noticed my face. “Do you need me to call someone?” she asked gently.
I almost said no. I almost lied.
Instead, I swallowed hard and nodded. “Could you call my husband’s number again?”
Her expression shifted. “The one that goes straight to voicemail?”
I closed my eyes. “Yes.”
Because that was the other problem.
