At my three-month check-up, the doctor couldn’t find a heartbeat. I was told I needed a D&C. Sobbing, I called my husband, Declan, only to hear the strain in his voice. "Zara, I'm swamped with experimental data. I really can't get away."
Hours after I went through the procedure alone, I saw his senior colleague, Kora Holloway, post a new Instagram story. It was a picture of Declan in the driver's seat of his car. The caption read: "Stuck at the airport in a downpour with no cabs in sight. So lucky to have someone drive hours to pick me up. Thanks for being there."
He wasn't busy. He was just busy for me. In that single, heart-shattering moment, I finally understood the difference between being loved and not being loved. It was the beginning of his regret and my new beginning.
