He looked peaceful.
He looked safe.
He looked as though he trusted the world.
That trust should have broken her.
Instead, Maya allowed herself to believe a lie, because that lie made it possible to leave.
She told herself that newborns slept most of the time. She told herself that the bottles would be there. She told herself she would only be gone for a little while, even though the bag on the bed was packed for three days. She told herself that all mothers needed breaks, as if a break meant locking a helpless baby inside an apartment and driving away.
She placed two bottles beside the crib.
Then she added another, as if more bottles could turn abandonment into care.
She folded a blanket over the edge. She checked her makeup in the hallway mirror. She picked up her phone. Outside, a car honked once, then again.
Her friends were waiting for her.
