For the first time, something like pain moved across his face.
But he only said:
“I know.”
Then he left.
Part 4 — The Choice I Made for My Baby
I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Daniel’s messages.
Then I saw Dad.
My entire understanding of marriage had become unstable.
If my father could adore my mother and still betray her, what did fidelity even mean?
Were loyalty and love separate things?
Could someone love you and still humiliate you?
Was cheating proof that a marriage was over—or proof that human beings could be selfish and weak without everything else being false?
I hated every question.
I hated Daniel for making me ask them.
And somewhere beneath that anger, I hated my father too.
Around three in the morning, my son kicked.
I placed both hands over my stomach.
“Hey,” I whispered.
He moved again.
I started crying.
Not the violent sobbing from earlier.
Quiet tears.
The kind that seem to come from exhaustion more than emotion.
My doctor had already been monitoring me closely because I had experienced episodes of high blood pressure during the pregnancy.
I knew I needed stability.
Whatever happened to my marriage, my baby needed me functioning.
That became the only thought I trusted.
So I made a decision.
I would not forgive Daniel.
I would not pretend nothing happened.
But I would postpone the war.
The following morning, Daniel arrived at my parents’ house.
His eyes were swollen.
Whether from crying or lack of sleep, I didn’t know.
He looked terrible.
Good, some bitter part of me thought.
He tried to touch my hand.
I pulled away.
“Don’t.”
“Claire, please.”
“I know everything.”
His face crumpled.
“I ended it.”
I laughed softly.
“Congratulations.”
“I made the worst mistake of my life.”
“No. A mistake is forgetting an appointment.”
I looked him directly in the eyes.
“This required planning.”
He cried.
I felt nothing.
That frightened me.
Daniel apologized for nearly an hour.
He blamed no one but himself, which I suppose was better than the alternative.
But every apology sounded small beside the messages I had seen.
Finally, I said:
“I’m not promising you anything.”
He nodded quickly.
“I understand.”
