The word left no room for retreat. He looked down, his fingers closing slowly over the edge of the table. I had imagined this moment many times. In some versions he shouted.

In others he accused me, or stormed out, or demanded a test. I had never imagined silence.

When he finally spoke, his voice was barely audible. “Did you know you were pregnant when you left?”

“Yes.”

His face tightened as though I had struck him. “I went to the house looking for you.”

“How long after I left?”