Chapter 3%
I couldn’t understand. How could people change so suddenly?!
Leah, who once treated me like her own daughter, had turned into a stranger. And Charles, the man I had spent twenty years of marriage with, had become someone I no longer recognized.”
When Charles returned, he found me sitting by the window, my voice lost from crying too much. He pulled me into his arms, the chill from outside still clinging to him.
Silently, he took off his coat and tucked my frozen hands inside his sweater, his warmth seeping into my skin.”
For a fleeting moment, it felt like time had rewound twenty years to when we still loved each other fiercely.
Back then, we struggled. Isaiah had cut off every opportunity for Charles, trying to make him regret his decision to get a vasectomy. Because of that, he resented me, too.
In this vast, indifferent city, we had slept in a cramped basement, surviving on instant noodles and steamed buns. At our poorest, we couldn’t even afford a single sanitary pad.”
On the coldest nights, we curled up together in one bed, wearing every piece of clothing we owned, shivering beneath a threadbare blanket.
I had cried back then, too.
I kept telling myself to let go, that if we clung to this life any longer, Charles, whose health was already fragile, would only wither further.
“Charles, let’s stop this. Let’s get a divorce. Go back and admit your mistake. If you go now, you might even get a warm bowl of chicken soup waiting for you.“}
He held me tighter, tucking my hands deeper into his clothes, pressing my frozen feet against his body as if trying to shield me from the world itself. His voice trembled between fear and determination.}
“No, I won’t divorce you. Natalie, I won’t say I was wrong because I wasn’t. I’m sorry… The vasectomy hurt, but I couldn’t bear to see you suffer. And yet… I still made you suffer.“}
Bitterness spread across my tongue, the taste no different from the tears that blurred my vision. The past and present bled together, indistinguishable.
“Charles, let’s leave, okay?“}
“You love children. We can have one of our own, okay?“}
“Why? Why didn’t you tell me when you wanted a child?“}
A heavy silence settled between us, thick and suffocating. It crashed over me like a wave, dragging me back to reality.
Slowly, mechanically, I turned to look at Charles.
As I followed the hesitation flickering across his face, I realized he hadn’t come back alone.}
This was my first time meeting Eleanor.”
Just like in the videos Leah had posted, she was young, poised, and exuded a soft maternal warmth, graceful in a way that made it impossible to look away.”
And I turned toward the mirror by the window. My swollen, red–rimmed eyes stared back, puffy like walnuts, the wrinkles at the corners deepened by days of relentless tears. I looked utterly miserable.}
Something unfamiliar twisted inside me.”
Eleanor’s gaze lingered on the very spot where Charles had been warming my hands. The pain in her eyes didn’t seem feigned, yet she forced a smile as she gently nudged the child beside her forward.
Charles, visibly shaken by her sadness, didn’t hesitate. His hand slipped from mine, and without a second thought, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
He said nothing, just pressed a tender kiss to Eleanor’s forehead, a soothing gesture meant for her alone.}
A sharp wave of bitterness surged through me, and my fingers, still not fully warmed, turned cold once more.
Eleanor shyly touched her face, then glanced at me with a smile, subtle yet triumphant.
“Orion, go on, say hello. This is Aunt Natalie.”
I stiffened, disbelief lacing my voice.
“What… did you call me?”
She smiled, her tone light, almost effortless. “Orion. Orion, like the stars. Charles said he hopes he’ll grow up to be as bright and admirable as the sky above.“X
A ringing filled my ears. My mind blanked.
Orion’s lips moved, he was speaking, but I couldn’t hear a single word.
Slowly, I turned to Charles, searching for an answer, but he only lowered his head, his guilt laid bare in the silence.
Orion Davis.
The name we had chosen together long ago when we had still dared to dream of a child of our own.
9/2 30.02
7.56 AM
