Still, I continued making excuses for him.
He was working hard.
He was stressed.
He was building our future.
That was what I kept telling myself.
Then one afternoon, I called him.
Sophie was on my hip while I tried to decide whether dinner should be for one person or two.
“Will you be home tonight?”
His answer was sharp.
“Probably not. Grace, can you stop checking up on me? I’m working. I don’t need you calling me constantly.”
The words stung.
But by then, I had become skilled at swallowing pain.
“Okay,” I said quietly. “Love you.”
He didn’t respond.
I placed my phone on the kitchen counter next to Sophie’s bottle.
Then I realized the screen was still glowing.
The call timer was still moving.
Elon hadn’t ended the call.
I nearly hung up myself.
Then I heard a woman laughing.
My hand froze.
The laughter sounded close.
Comfortable.
Intimate.
Then Elon spoke again.
Except now his voice sounded entirely different.
Relaxed.
Warm.
The version of him I hadn’t heard directed toward me for a very long time.
“She’s driving me crazy,” he said. “Always asking when I’m coming home, sending baby pictures, checking up on me. I just want her to leave me alone.”
