Chapter 8 - THE LAST PROMISE
The full custody hearing was scheduled for six weeks later.
During that time, I found a small apartment in a quiet neighborhood near Lily's school. Rachel helped me negotiate a lease and arrange a financial plan using the money I had saved before marrying Alexander.
I had not been unemployed for eight years because I lacked ambition. I had left my career when Lily was born because Alexander insisted that the children needed a parent at home.
He had called it a gift.
I had slowly realized it had also made me dependent.
Now I was applying for administrative work at a medical foundation where I had volunteered before my marriage.
The first interview felt terrifying.
The director asked about the gap in my employment.
I told her I had been raising two children.
She smiled.
“That's work too.”
I nearly cried.
A week later, I received an offer.
The salary was modest, but it was mine.
On the same day, Alexander requested a meeting.
Rachel advised against it.
“You don't owe him a private conversation.”
“I know.”
“Then why go?”
“Because I want to hear what he has to say without the children present.”
We met in a public conference room at Rachel's office.
Alexander arrived alone.
He looked thinner. His suit was expensive, but his face seemed tired.
“I heard you got a job,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“A medical foundation.”
He nodded.
“That's good.”
I waited.
He placed a small envelope on the table.
“It's for the children.”
I didn't touch it.
“What is it?”
“Money. A trust account. Enough to cover their education.”
“They already have a trust.”
“This is separate.”
“Then your attorney can send it to Rachel.”
He withdrew his hand.
“All right.”
Silence settled between us.
Finally, he said, “I want to apologize.”
I looked at him.
“For which part?”
He swallowed.
“All of it.”
“That isn't specific.”
He nodded slowly.
“I lied about my travel. I let you raise our children alone. I made you believe you were the only person in my life. I had a son with Sophia and kept it from you. I locked you in our bedroom when you tried to leave.”
He looked down.
“I told myself I was protecting the family. I was protecting my comfort.”
I felt my throat tighten.
“Why didn't you just divorce me?”
“Because I didn't want to lose you.”
“You didn't want to lose the person who waited for you.”
He looked up.
“Maybe.”
“I was lonely, Alexander. I was lonely in a house full of people. I spent years explaining your absence to our children. I defended you when they were disappointed. I made excuses when you forgot birthdays. I told myself your work was dangerous and your responsibilities were complicated.”
My voice shook.
“And while I was doing that, you were having dinner with another woman. You were watching your other son learn to walk. You were building memories with him while missing the first steps of your own children.”
Alexander closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“No. You know the facts. You don't know what it felt like.”
He did not argue.
After a long pause, he said, “Can we start again?”
I stared at him.
“No.”
His face tightened.
“Claire—”
“I can forgive some things one day. I can learn to stop carrying the anger. But I cannot go back to being your wife.”
“Eight years.”
“Eight years is why I know.”
He looked toward the window.
“What about the children?”
“They deserve a father who shows up. If you want to be that father, you can start by following the court's rules and keeping your promises.”
“I will.”
“Don't promise me. Show them.”
I stood.
Alexander remained seated.
As I reached the door, he spoke.
“Claire, I did love you.”
I turned.
May you like
“Maybe you did. But love that only exists when someone is convenient isn't enough.”
Then I left.
