Part 4 — I Returned Home Unexpectedly on New Year’s Eve and Found My Wife with a Fever and My Baby in the Cold — My Mother Lost Color

After the police’s words, the hospital corridor seemed to shrink in one second.

“What room?” I asked.

Harris turned on the phone’s speaker.

“The head of hotel security says that the room was booked in your name, but Chloe’s belongings were found inside. Also several documents and a memory card.”

My mother finally lost control.

“David, do not go anywhere!” her shouting could be heard on the phone. “This is all a misunderstanding. Maia is sick and is making things up.”

Harris looked toward me.

“Do not answer.”

“She is my mother.”

“And at this moment she may be trying to destroy evidence.”

I ended the call.

Immediately three more people called me. The bank’s security department informed me that there had been two attempts at transfers from my account during the night. My company’s accountant told me that he had received an order by email in my name to transfer money to Chloe’s new enterprise. Finally, my lawyer contacted me.

“David, your mother is asking me to represent her.”

“Will you?”

“No. It is a conflict of interest. After these materials, I refuse to defend her.”

For the first time that night I took a deep breath.

I entered Maia’s room. She was asleep, while Liam was breathing peacefully in a small transparent crib. Warm vapor appeared and disappeared on the tip of the baby’s nose.

But the calm did not last long.

The next morning, at six o’clock, the head of hotel security started a video call. On camera, my mother and Chloe entered the room. Mark stood at the door and constantly looked down the corridor.

Mother put the bag on the bed.

“Take everything away,” she said. “If David sees this room, he will think that we ran away in advance.”

Chloe opened the drawer.

There they found copies of Maia’s passport, an insurance card, several blank bank forms, and a small memory card.

“What is this?” Mark asked.

Chloe shrugged.

“Her hospital records from childbirth. If necessary, we will prove that Maia is psychologically unstable and cannot take care of the baby.”

The air disappeared from Maia’s room.

“They wanted to take my son from me,” she said quietly.

I sat beside her.

“No one will take him from us anymore.”

That same day the police opened the door of our apartment. In the kitchen there still stood the plastic cup in which Maia had left the thickened soup the previous night. And beside it on the floor lay Liam’s thin blanket.

My mother did not know about the cameras. That was exactly what saved everything.

In the living room, the officer played the recordings on a large screen. There were my mother, Chloe, and Mark, and there were their true faces.

My father’s old armchair stood by the window. My mother sat down on it and seemed to hear her own voice for the first time.

“You married for money. Earn your place.”

Maia’s words could be heard from the screen:

“Liam is cold, please.”

And Chloe’s answer was worse than the cold:

“We need it at the hotel.”

My mother lowered her head.

“I did not mean it that way,” she said.

“Then how did you mean it?” Harris asked.

She could not answer.

Mark spoke for the first time.

“I was only carrying things.”

“The video shows that you were carrying the baby formula,” the officer replied.

“Chloe told me.”

Chloe looked at him.

“Do not put everything on me now.”

This was their family’s last common table. No one defended each other anymore. Everyone began thinking about himself.

Within several hours they were arrested on charges of fraud, forgery of documents, and deliberately placing a child in danger. Mark soon admitted that my mother had paid him money. And Chloe told me that using Maia’s identity had been her idea, because she wanted to take out a loan in my name and open a new salon.

My mother said nothing without a lawyer.

I neither shouted in court nor wanted to humiliate them. I simply handed over every document I had. Bank statements. Camera recordings. The paper from the empty refrigerator door. Maia’s medical report.

But the video was still the hardest thing.

Several weeks later Maia returned home. The doctor told her that she had to move slowly and not lift any heavy objects. I rearranged the rooms, repaired the heating, and put a new refrigerator in the kitchen.

I could not throw away the old refrigerator.

My mother’s paper was still stuck to its door. At last I removed it, folded it, and put it in a folder. Not because I missed her words, but because I wanted never to forget the price at which I bought the truth.

The empty kitchen seemed larger. The laughter of strangers was no longer heard there, the pantry door no longer closed, and no one counted how many pieces of bread someone had eaten.

Only Liam’s breathing could be heard.

In three months Maia walked from the house to the park for the first time. She walked slowly, but smiled at every step. I pushed the baby stroller and looked at the trees along the way, on which new buds were appearing.

“Are you afraid?” Maia asked me.

“Sometimes.”

“And I thought that you were never afraid.”

“I was afraid. I simply did not notice it before you.”

Liam already had three teeth. He laughed at everything, especially when I opened the refrigerator door and arranged fruit inside.

In four months I finally separated my company from the family finances. All of my mother’s access was canceled. The loan taken out in Chloe’s name was recognized by the court as fraud. Mark chose to cooperate, and a separate agreement was made against him. My mother was sentenced to imprisonment, although at no hearing did I say that she should receive the harshest punishment.

The punishment had already begun.

No one trusted her anymore.

And I learned for the first time that surviving the consequences of other people was not my duty.

Six months later, on the first morning of December, the first snow began outside our window. Maia was making coffee in the kitchen, while I was feeding Liam porridge with a small wooden spoon.

A child’s drawing was attached to the refrigerator. Three strange figures were drawn: one big, one small, and a round face in the middle.

“Is this us?” I asked.

Maia smiled.

“You, me, and Liam.”

“Why is there no fourth figure?”

“Because only those who warm each other are here.”

That evening my phone lit up again. The message was from my mother’s lawyer. He wanted to meet with me. Then a second message came, this time from an unknown number.

“David, I am your mother. A family should not end like this. Meet me just once.”

I looked at the screen for a long time.

Earlier I would have run immediately after such a message. I would have begun explaining, justifying myself, saving everyone.

But now I looked at Maia. She was holding Liam and watching the snow from the window.

I put the phone on the table.

“You will not answer?” she asked.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“For the first time, I am.”

I deleted the message.

Then I entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. Inside were milk, fruit, broth, and baby formula. Everything was in its place.

I put the old folding plastic chair away in the corner. Maia had sat on it that night, when I thought I was building a family and did not notice how they were destroying it.

Liam hit the chair with his hand and began to laugh.

And for the first time I no longer felt shame, anger, or fear.

Outside the window, snow was silently falling on the city.

Warmth remained in the house.