Then, Tyler instinctively walked over to Mindy and scooped up her baby.
“There’s my precious little one,” he cooed.
I stood there, watching him dote on another woman’s child, the realization settling deeper into my chest.
I walked to the passenger seat and opened the door, only to notice a sticker on the seat that read: Mindy’s Spot.
I
Taken aback, I turned to Tyler as he approached.
He caught my puzzled expression and laughed lightly. “Oli, Mindy’s coming with us. She gets carsick, so I figured
we let her sit in the front.”
I waited for him to explain the sticker, but he didn’t. All it took was “she gets carsick” for my seat to be given to someone else.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“What’s there to tell?” Tyler replied nonchalantly.
I said nothing more, quietly moving to the backseat.
Tyler noticed my unhappiness and frowned. “Come on, Sarah. Don’t be petty. Mindy’s just given birth. You should be more understanding,‘
1 forced a smile. “I’m not upset. Let’s just go.”
Satisfied, Tyler climbed into the driver’s seat, and the car began its journey.
As he drove, he chatted animatedly with Mindy. She even helped navigate, pointing out turns with a cheerful tone.
The two of them, playful and in sync, looked more like newlyweds returning to visit family than anything else. Me, on the other hand? I was just the silent observer in the backseat.
The road stretched on, and my nausea crept in. Tyler never noticed, though.
“Where’s my motion sickness pill?”
Tyler, his voice tinged with irritation from tiredness, responded, “What medicine?” “You didn’t bring it?”
I already knew the answer, but I asked anyway, unwilling to believe he’d forgotten.
After a pause, Tyler muttered, “There’s a rest stop ahead. 1 pull over.”
I smiled bitterly and leaned back against the seat.
There was no need to ask anything else.
