Chương 2
My mother looked at Chloe.
Then at me.
"She works wherever she needs to work."
"That's not what I asked."
My mother's mouth tightened.
"Ethan."
"No."
My voice surprised even me.
"No more avoiding."
She looked away.
That was when I knew there was something.
Something everyone else had been carrying while I was gone.
"I saw her with children."
My mother went still.
"They looked about four or five years old."
Nobody spoke.
I laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
"Mom."
She walked toward the kitchen.
"Ethan, you are tired."
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Act like I am confused."
She turned around.
For the first time that evening, she looked afraid of me.
Not because I was angry.
Because I was asking a question she did not want to answer.
"Who are those children?"
My mother sat down slowly.
Chloe remained standing.
"I don't think this is something we should discuss tonight."
"Why?"
"Because you are getting married."
I stared at her.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
She pressed her fingers against her temple.
"Everything."
I wanted to yell.
I wanted to demand every answer immediately.
Instead, I walked to the kitchen sink and filled a glass of water I did not drink.
That was something I had learned in Vancouver.
Anger felt powerful for a few seconds.
Then it left you alone with the damage.
Later that night, I searched through old photos on my phone.
Most of them were gone.
I had deleted almost everything connected to Samantha during the first year after our divorce.
The pictures I kept were random.
A restaurant receipt.
A vacation photo.
A picture of our old apartment taken before we moved out.
In the background of that picture was a small wooden frame on the shelf.
A photograph of Samantha and me.
Happy before we learned how easily happiness could disappear.
The next morning, my aunt Patricia arrived carrying a bag of oranges and immediately knew something was wrong.
She had always been terrible at pretending.
My mother was pouring coffee when I asked the question again.
"What happened after my divorce?"
Patricia stopped moving.
My mother looked at her.
It was a warning.
A silent one.
Patricia ignored it.
"She didn't tell you?"
The room became completely quiet.
My fingers tightened around the coffee mug.
"Tell me what?"
Patricia looked at my mother.
Then back at me.
"Oh, Ethan."
My mother's face hardened.
"Patricia."
"No."
My aunt put the orange down.
"No, this has gone on long enough."
My heartbeat became louder.
"What are you talking about?"
Patricia sat across from me.
"Three weeks after you left for Vancouver, Samantha came here."
I looked at my mother.
She did not deny it.
"Why?"
Patricia hesitated.
Then she said the words that changed everything.
"Because she was pregnant."
The coffee in my hand went cold.
I stared at my mother.
She stared at the table.
"Mom?"
No response.
"Mom, was Samantha pregnant?"
Her shoulders dropped.
"Yes."
The room felt smaller.
"With my child?"
My mother closed her eyes.
"Yes."
A strange calm came over me.
The kind that appears right before something breaks.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She whispered something.
I could not hear.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
This time my voice was louder.
My mother looked up.
"Because I thought you would ruin your life."
I stepped back.
"My life?"
She wiped at her face.
"You were finally leaving. You were hurt. You were angry. You hated each other."
"We were divorced."
"Exactly."
"That was my decision."
"And I thought I was protecting you."
The sentence hurt more than an apology would have.
Because she still believed it.
She still believed she had saved me.
I looked toward the window.
Outside, a neighbor was carrying groceries from a car.
A dog barked somewhere down the street.
The normal world continued.
But mine had shifted.
"Where is she?"
My mother looked confused.
"Who?"
"Samantha."
Silence.
Then Patricia answered.
"She lives on the south side."
I looked at her.
"And the children?"
Nobody spoke.
I already knew.
But I needed someone to say it.
Patricia lowered her eyes.
"They are yours, Ethan."
I left my mother's house without saying goodbye.
I drove without knowing where I was going.
For five years, I had told myself Samantha and I were a mistake I survived.
Now I had to face the possibility that the greatest thing I ever lost had been waiting for me to come back.
I drove without knowing where I was going.
For almost an hour, I followed streets that had become unfamiliar even though I had grown up only a few miles away.
Chicago had changed while I was gone.
New buildings had replaced empty lots.
Restaurants I remembered had disappeared.
People walking on sidewalks carried lives that had nothing to do with mine.
I felt like I had returned to my own hometown as a visitor.
Eventually, I pulled into a quiet parking lot near the lake and turned off the engine.
I sat there staring through the windshield.
The last five years rearranged themselves in my mind.
Every argument with Samantha.
Every angry sentence.
Every moment when I convinced myself leaving was the only option.
And beneath all of it was one question.
How many times had she tried to reach me?
I pulled out my phone.
Her number was still saved.
I had never deleted it.
I told myself I kept it because deleting it felt unnecessary.
That was a lie.
My thumb hovered over the call button.
Then I stopped.
What if she answered?
That thought surprised me.
Not because I was afraid she would ignore me.
Because I was afraid she would pick up.
I had spent five years creating a version of Samantha in my head.
A woman who had moved on.
A woman who hated me.
May you like
A woman who had become nothing more than a painful chapter.
But the woman I saw at the airport had not looked like someone who hated me.
