Chương 7
The door opened.
Julian walked in alone.
That surprised me.
I expected Victoria.
I expected another attorney.
I expected someone standing beside him to reinforce his version of events.
Instead, he entered carrying only a thin folder.
He looked exhausted.
Not the dramatic kind.
Not the kind people display when they want sympathy.
The quiet kind.
The kind that comes from realizing there is no room left to pretend.
He saw me.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then he sat across from me.
“Hi.”
The word sounded strange.
Too normal.
Like we were two people who had not spent the last year destroying each other.
“Hi,” I answered.
The mediator entered a few minutes later.
She introduced herself and explained the process.
Her voice was calm.
Neutral.
She did not care who had hurt who.
She cared about agreements.
Schedules.
Responsibilities.
Reality.
That was probably why the conversation felt harder.
Reality did not care about our emotions.
Reality only cared about what we did next.
Julian spoke first.
“I want to be involved in Lucas’s life.”
The mediator looked at him.
“Can you explain what that means?”
He hesitated.
That surprised me.
Julian always had an answer.
“I want to be his father.”
The mediator nodded.
“What does that look like?”
He looked down.
“I want time with him.”
“Why now?”
The question was simple.
But it landed heavily.
Julian glanced at me.
Then away.
“Because I made mistakes.”
The mediator waited.
“That is a start,” she said.
“But I need more than that.”
He swallowed.
“I should have been there.”
The room became quiet.
I did not expect an apology.
Not a real one.
Not from him.
But hearing it did not erase anything.
A person admitting they hurt you did not magically remove the pain.
Sometimes it only proved they finally understood what you had already known.
The mediator looked at me.
“Audrey?”
I folded my hands.
“I am not trying to keep Lucas from his father.”
Julian looked up.
I continued.
“But I need consistency.”
He nodded slightly.
“I agree.”
“You don’t get to disappear when things become inconvenient.”
His face changed.
A small reaction.
A painful one.
Because it was true.
“I know.”
“You don’t get to show up only when people are watching.”
“I know.”
“And you don’t get to use him to fix your reputation.”
That one made him look away.
The mediator noticed.
“Mr. Sterling?”
Julian rubbed his hand over his face.
“I know what this looks like.”
“No,” I said quietly.
“I don’t think you do.”
He looked at me.
For once, he did not interrupt.
“You think this is about custody.”
I paused.
“It isn’t.”
“Then what is it about?”
I looked through the window.
People walked along the sidewalk outside.
A woman carried groceries.
A man held the hand of a little boy wearing a red jacket.
Normal lives.
Normal moments.
“I need to know if you understand that Lucas is a person.”
Julian frowned slightly.
“What does that mean?”
“It means he is not proof that you changed.”
The words stayed between us.
“He is not a way to make people forgive you.”
Julian’s expression tightened.
“He is my son.”
“Yes.”
I nodded.
“He is.”
That seemed to surprise him.
“I’m not denying that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying being his father is not about wanting the title.”
His eyes lowered.
“It’s about showing up when nobody is clapping.”
The mediator remained silent.
Rachel did too.
Everyone knew that was the real conversation.
Not custody.
Not schedules.
Not paperwork.
A few minutes later, Julian’s attorney joined by video call.
He immediately changed the energy.
The careful emotion disappeared.
The legal language began.
Temporary arrangements.
Visitation.
Financial responsibilities.
Protection clauses.
Everything became cleaner when turned into documents.
Maybe that was why people liked paperwork.
Paper could make painful things feel manageable.
Then Julian’s attorney brought up the company investigation.
“I believe we need to separate personal disputes from business matters.”
Rachel looked at him.
“They are already connected.”
“They are not.”
“They are when company funds were used to create false financial records during the marriage.”
Julian’s expression changed.
Not anger.
Fear.
Small.
Almost invisible.
But I saw it.
The attorney noticed too.
“What exactly are you alleging?”
Rachel opened her folder.
“We are not making allegations today.”
She placed several documents on the table.
“We are discussing facts.”
Julian stared at the papers.
The room became colder.
The mediator looked between us.
“This appears to be outside the scope of today’s discussion.”
“It is,” Rachel said.
“But it is relevant because Mr. Sterling’s financial behavior affects his credibility.”
Julian leaned back.
“I made mistakes.”
I looked at him.
That was the first time he had used that word.
Not misunderstandings.
Not accusations.
Mistakes.
It was not enough.
But it was something.
The meeting ended without a final agreement.
Nothing dramatic happened.
No one shouted.
No one walked out.
No one delivered a perfect speech.
Real life rarely worked that way.
Instead, we left with paperwork, deadlines, and more questions than answers.
Outside the building, Julian stopped me.
“Audrey.”
I turned.
He looked uncomfortable.
Like he had forgotten how to speak to me without using charm or anger.
“I know I don’t deserve you to believe me.”
I waited.
“But I want to try.”
I looked at him.
“Trying is easy.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t.”
The words came out softer than I expected.
“Trying feels good when you decide to do it.”
Julian said nothing.
“Showing up is different.”
The wind moved through the street.
People walked around us without noticing.
“You have to do it when it is boring.”
I looked at him.
“When it is inconvenient.”
Another pause.
“When nobody knows.”
Julian looked away.
For once, he did not argue.
“I understand.”
I almost corrected him.
Because understanding was another thing he claimed too quickly.
But I stopped.
May you like
Maybe some lessons needed time.
“Lucas is not going to remember this week,” I said.
