Her eyes moved from me to the baby carrier.
Then she smiled in a way that made my stomach twist.
“Eric,” she called into the house, “your baby’s mother is here asking for another handout.”
My face burned.
Eric appeared behind her.
Barefoot.
Comfortable.
Annoyed to see me.
“I don’t want anything for myself,” I told him. “Just look at Chloe. Her treatment costs more than I can manage.”
His eyes flicked toward the carrier for barely a second.
Then back to me.
“I’ve moved on, Claire.”
“She is your child.”
“Stop bringing her here.”
My heart thudded painfully.
“Eric—”
“I have a new life now. Take your kid and go.”
Tessa laughed softly behind him.
Then the door closed.
I stood on the porch staring at it.
Chloe made another soft noise.
And something inside me changed.
For weeks, I had been waiting for Eric to remember who he used to be.
Waiting for him to care.
Waiting for him to become the man I once believed I had married.
That afternoon, I stopped waiting.
Part 4 — The Last Person I Expected
I cried most of the drive home.
By the time I reached my apartment, I had almost nothing left in me.
My neighbor June saw me struggling with Chloe’s carrier and immediately came over.
“Let me help.”
Normally, I would have smiled and insisted I was fine.
That had become my automatic response.
I’m fine.
We’re fine.
I’ve got it.
But I wasn’t fine.
So I let June carry Chloe upstairs.
Once inside, she asked if there was anyone she could call.
I looked at my phone.
There was one person.
The last person I wanted to ask for help.
Barbara.
Eric’s mother.
Barbara and I had never been close.
She thought I took things too personally.
I thought she had spent Eric’s entire life making excuses for him.
If he forgot something, Barbara fixed it.
If he ran short on money, Barbara helped.
