Part 4 — On the Day of Childbirth, My Husband Left Me Alone, but What He Saw Upon Returning Home Took the Words from His Mouth and Made His Face Turn Pale

The next morning I went to the lawyer’s office. It was still dark outside, and the city streets were covered with wet leaves.

Ellen was already waiting for me.

“The company’s accountant called me again last night,” I said.

“I know. He transferred all the records to a secure vault.”

“Did Callum know that all this would come out?”

“Probably. That is why he is trying to gain time.”

The phone rang immediately. It was Callum.

“Rowan, please listen to me.”

“I’m listening.”

“Mother made a mistake, but I can fix everything.”

“How?”

“The house will remain yours. We will return the money too. You only have to say that you signed the agreement because of a misunderstanding.”

Ellen slowly shook her head.

“No,” I said.

“You have not even heard what I was asking you.”

“I know exactly.”

“If this case reaches court, it will hurt everyone.”

“That day you also knew that you were leaving me alone before childbirth. You went anyway.”

“I was not the person then that I am now.”

“That is exactly why I can no longer believe your words.”

Callum was silent for several seconds.

“Can you, just once, not make me into a monster?”

“I am not turning you into a monster. I am simply no longer protecting you from the consequences your choice brought.”

I ended the call.

That same day Callum and his lawyer went to the company. However, his lawyer came out only ten minutes later.

“I cannot continue signing these documents,” he told Callum.

“What do you mean, you cannot continue?”

“It means you were asking me to conceal facts.”

“I did not ask that.”

The lawyer closed the folder.

“The letters were sent from your name. The audit records were opened with your password. You can no longer blame someone else in your place.”

For the first time Callum heard his own words from a stranger.

That same evening Ellen sent me a copy of the statement filed in court. It contained everything: hidden transfers, shares purchased with joint money, decisions made without my name, and the letter in which Callum wrote that after the child’s birth it would be easier to influence me.

When I read those words, I felt coldness in my stomach. I had once loved this person.

But now his sentences stood before me in the form of a strange man.

Three days later the court issued a temporary decision. Everett’s residence and daily care remained with me. Callum was given visitation rights only according to an agreed schedule, without supervision, but with clear rules. Maribel was forbidden to take the child.

Maribel left the courthouse angrily.

“You have taken everything from our family!” she shouted at me.

“I only took back what was mine.”

Graeme stood beside her and, for the first time, did not defend her.

“Maribel, enough,” he told her.

Those two words turned out to be the heaviest blow for her.

Callum stood on the stairs. In his hand he held a small blue sock that had accidentally remained in the bag when he returned from the hospital.

“This belongs to Everett,” he told me.

“I know.”

“May I keep it?”

“No. It belongs to him.”

He held out the sock to me. His fingers were trembling.

When I returned home, I saw the room that had once been the baby’s. Now there were only empty walls and one white mark left on the floor where the crib had stood. The toy car Callum had left lay in the corner.

I picked that up too and put it away in the cupboard.

Two months passed.

Everett cried less at night. In the morning he woke me and wrapped his little fist around my finger. Tamsin came twice a week. Keira often sent me a message to check the baby’s feeding and sleep.

I began working part-time at a small architectural studio. A river could be seen from the office window. Every morning I drank coffee, arranged the pencils, and for the first time in many years no one asked me where I had been and why.

Callum came according to the schedule. At first he could not speak to Everett. He only looked at the child.

One evening, when he was preparing to leave, Everett said for the first time:

“Dad.”

Callum stopped at the door. His eyes filled with tears.

I did not smile, and I was not angry either. I simply saw how he understood that the child’s love could not be regained by order.

“Thank you for letting me be here,” he told me.

“That right belongs to Everett. I only follow the rules.”

“I am still going to therapy.”

“Continue. Not for me.”

“For myself,” he answered.

In the third month, the court published the results of the property audit. The house was sold because, when it was purchased, money paid from my inheritance had been mixed into the joint transaction. My share was returned to me. The company’s hidden accounts were checked by the tax service. Maribel and Graeme were given financial sanctions, while Callum testified against us.

I did not greet this news with joy.

I felt only relief.

I no longer wanted the house. Those walls reminded me every morning how I had waited for a person who was not going to come.

I rented a new apartment near the river. I put a small wooden table in the living room. In Everett’s room I painted the walls warm yellow. By the window I put up his drawings: a crooked house, a large sun, and four figures whose hands were joined to one another.

One morning the first snow came.

Everett was already four months old. I picked him up in my arms by the window.

“Look, little one, everything is white.”

He placed his finger on the glass.

“Sno…”

“Snow,” I repeated for him.

That evening I received a final message from Callum.

“I want us to try again. Not only because of the child. I know it is late, but now at least I know what I am losing.”

I stared at the screen for a long time. Earlier I would have stayed awake nights thinking of a reply to such a text. Now I wrote only one sentence:

“You did not lose the family in one day. You simply chose to leave it every day. I am not going back.”

Then I put the phone down.

Everett fell asleep on my chest. His breathing was peaceful. Outside the window, snow was descending silently over the city.

I took from the cupboard the little blue blanket that Grandmother had knitted. I carefully covered the baby with it and touched with my fingers the crooked stars sewn into its edges.

That morning Callum stepped over the maternity bag and left me.

Now I was no longer waiting for anyone.

I held my son in my arms, and I had locked the door from the inside.