Part 4 — My Husband Saw My Sister Kissing on New Year’s Eve, but at My Calm Answer, He Was the First to Turn Pale

The call on Marco’s phone had still not ended when Gabriel took a step back for the first time.

His hands were already tied, but he still tried to control the room.

“I will call my lawyer,” he said.

“We have already called your lawyer,” Marco replied.

“He has no right to do anything without me.”

“That is exactly why he no longer represents your interests.”

Gabriel froze.

The second police officer handed the phone to Marco. A message was visible on the screen. Gabriel’s lawyer was writing that he was immediately withdrawing from the case and would hand all the documents over to the prosecutor’s office.

“This is temporary,” Gabriel said.

“No,” I said. “This is the first time someone has decided to save himself from you.”

Chloe was still sitting by the wall. The lower part of her silver dress touched the wet floor.

“B, I did not want to hurt you.”

“But that is exactly what you did.”

“Gabriel told me that he did not love you anymore.”

“You did not need his permission to believe that.”

Chloe lowered her head.

Soon two more investigators entered the house. They sealed the rooms, took away the computers, and began questioning the guards separately. The house, which had always been a symbol of Gabriel’s power, became an ordinary crime scene within a few minutes.

But the hardest moment came when one of the investigators played the recording on a large screen.

Gabriel was sitting on a chair. I was standing directly opposite him.

His own voice sounded in the room.

“If necessary, we will write everything else in her name as well.”

Gabriel was listening.

These were the words he himself had said, but it was as if he were hearing them for the first time. His face tensed. His eyes froze on the screen.

“Turn it off,” he said.

No one moved.

“Turn this off!”

Marco answered calmly:

“Now everyone must hear it.”

Chloe’s voice sounded in the recording, then her laughter, then the conversation about the plan for custody of the child.

Gabriel buried his head in his hands.

And I realized that his voice no longer frightened me. His voice still had power, but that power no longer lived inside me.

At six in the morning the police took him from the house. Outside, snow lay in a thick layer. Gabriel stopped on the stairs.

“Beatrice, this child needs a father.”

“A child needs a father, not a prisoner.”

“You will regret this.”

“I already regret protecting you for so long.”

He tried to say something, but could no longer find the word.

Chloe went to her parents that same morning. They were summoning her as a witness in the case. I did not want revenge on her. I simply could no longer live for her instead of her own conscience.

When everyone left, a strange silence remained in the house.

I went up to the second floor.

The door of our bedroom was open. Gabriel’s jacket lay on the bed. Half of his clothes were no longer in the closet, but his scent still remained in the room.

Most of all, the small wall shelf caught my eye. There stood a photograph of Gabriel and me at our wedding. In the picture we were both laughing. I still believed that love locked doors only to protect from the cold.

I took the photograph.

I put it back.

I went down to the kitchen and took the copper clock in my hands. Its back cover was open, and inside, the place for the small device remained empty.

It was the thing that had opened the door for me.

Three weeks later my child was born.

It was a girl.

I named her Mariam, after my grandmother. When they first laid her on my chest, she was so small that her hand could barely wrap around one of my fingers.

Then Marco looked into the hospital room.

“A preliminary hearing was held in Gabriel’s case. The financial charges were confirmed. The custody request for the child was rejected.”

I was kissing Mariam’s hair.

“And Chloe?”

“She is testifying.”

“Will she survive?”

Marco shrugged.

“That is no longer your business.”

That night I believed for the first time that it was true.

Two months later I rented a small apartment in Hoboken. On the first floor I found an old bakery on a street corner, whose owner was retiring. The floor was cracked, the oven often switched off, and the walls were white from flour.

I took the place anyway.

I got up at four in the morning. Mariam slept in the next room. I kneaded dough, watched the river fog from the window, and felt my name returning to me.

The first customer was an elderly woman.

“Are you new?” she asked me.

“No,” I answered. “I simply came back.”

She did not understand what I meant, but she smiled at me.

When Mariam was six months old, she drew her first picture. On the paper there was a yellow sun, a red house, and a big round woman. The woman held a small silver dot in her hand.

“What is this?” I asked.

Mariam did not know words yet. She only touched the key hanging around my neck with her finger.

I smiled.

“This is my key, little one.”

One evening, almost a year later, I received a letter from Gabriel. It had been sent from prison. On three pages he wrote that he missed everything, that Chloe had never loved him, and that our family could start over.

At the end there was only one sentence:

“Without you, I am no one.”

I looked at these words for a long time.

Then I wrote a reply.

“Without you, I am already myself. Do not contact me again.”

I did not send the letter.

I folded it, put it in the trash bin, and covered it with an empty sack of flour.

That night Mariam had a fever. I picked her up and went into the back room of the bakery. The first snow was falling outside. Flakes struck the windowpane, while the smell of freshly baked bread came from the oven.

The copper clock still hung on the wall. Now I had its back cover repaired. A small empty place remained inside, where the device had once been hidden.

The key was around my neck.

Mariam rested her head on my shoulder.

I looked at the clock and realized that for the first time time was no longer threatening me.

It was on my side.

And I left the door open.