“No, listen to me.”
He stopped.
“I am going home because I am seven months pregnant and I need stability. We will sleep separately. You will not touch me. You will not pressure me to forgive you. You will answer any question I ask honestly.”
“Yes.”
“And after the baby is born, I will decide what happens to this marriage.”
His face fell slightly.
But he nodded.
“Okay.”
That was how I stayed.
Not as a wife.
As a woman buying time.
Part 5 — Living Beside Someone I No Longer Trusted
The final weeks of my pregnancy were some of the strangest of my life.
Daniel moved into the guest room.
He became almost painfully attentive.
Breakfast appeared every morning.
Laundry was folded.
Appointments were never missed.
He deleted the other woman’s number in front of me.
He volunteered access to his phone.
None of it impressed me.
It felt like watching someone desperately trying to repair a window after burning down the house.
Sometimes he would stand in the nursery doorway while I folded baby clothes.
“Can I help?”
“No.”
Other nights, I woke and heard him crying quietly in the guest room.
I never went to him.
There had been a time when the sound of Daniel hurting would have pulled me out of bed immediately.
Now I simply stared at the ceiling.
Dad called often.
Our conversations became awkward.
I couldn’t stop imagining him betraying Mom.
I studied them differently when we visited.
If Dad touched her shoulder, I wondered whether she remembered.
If they laughed together, I wondered how she’d found a way back to that laughter.
One afternoon, Mom caught me watching them.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She smiled.
“You’ve been looking at your father like you’re trying to solve a murder.”
My stomach tightened.
Did she really know?
Dad had said she did.
I almost asked her.
Something stopped me.
Maybe embarrassment.
Maybe loyalty to Dad, even though I was angry with him.
Maybe fear of hearing details I could never forget.
So I said nothing.
And Dad said nothing more either.
He simply kept reminding me:
“One thing at a time.”
At the time, I thought it was cowardly advice.
Later, I understood what he was really doing.
Part 6 — The Day My Son Arrived
My contractions started at 2:17 in the morning.
I remember the time because I had been awake staring at the clock.
Daniel was asleep in the guest room.
