My husband knocked my debit card from my hand at my thirty-six-week appointment, then turned t0the receptionist and told her to cancel the ultrasound.

The card landed beneath a chair beside the check-in desk.

For a moment, I watched it instead of him.

I had worked extra enrollment shifts to put that money into my account.

“The doctor ordered this scan,” I said.

“And I told you the insurance thing is a billing mistake.”

The receptionist kept one hand on the appointment sheet.

“Mr. Ellison, the insurer’s response says the policy is no longer active. Your wife can speak with our billing coordinator while the nurse—”

“We’re leaving.”