He walked to the side of the bed, maintaining a safe distance, as if my exhaustion were contagious.

“Mark?” I whispered, my throat dry. “The babies… they’re here.”

“I see them,” he dismissed, waving a hand toward the window without turning his head. “They’re fine. The nannies will pick them up later.”

He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a thick, blue legal folder. He tossed it onto my chest. It landed with a heavy thud, pressing against my surgical incision. I gasped in pain.

“What is this?” I asked, my hands trembling as I touched the folder.

“Divorce papers,” Mark said calmly. “And a Non-Disclosure Agreement. Sign them.”

The world seemed to tilt. “Divorce? Mark, I just gave birth three hours ago.”