Chapter 8 - The Week He Could Have Come Home

Ethan asked to speak with me the next afternoon after holding Noah for the first time.

The nurse had placed our son against his bare chest, and I watched Ethan cry silently for nearly twenty minutes.

I did not mistake that tenderness for repair.

But I did not deny it either.

When Noah was back in his incubator, we sat in the empty consultation room across the hall.

"Claire's discharge wasn't the first time I could have come home," Ethan said.

I folded my arms.

"Go on."

"Her doctors stabilized her after the first month. I could have left for a week and come back if something changed."

"Why didn't you?"

"At first, because she was terrified."

"And then?"

He rubbed his palms together.

"Because being needed felt simpler than being a husband."

I stared at him.

"That's a terrible answer."

"I know."

"Explain it anyway."

He looked through the small window in the door toward the NICU.

"When Claire called, there was a problem I knew how to solve. Get on a plane. Sit with doctors. Pay a bill. Bring food. Ask questions. She was sick, and every day there was a list."

"And me?"

"You were pregnant. Happy. Scared. You wanted a future from me."

"That was too difficult?"

"No. It was too important."

I let out a bitter laugh.

"Do you hear yourself?"

"I do now."

He swallowed.

"My father left when my mother was pregnant with my sister. You know that."

I did. Ethan had been nine. His father had disappeared for nearly a year, returned briefly, and left again.

"I spent my whole life saying I would never be him," Ethan continued. "Then the moment I found out we were having a baby, I started waking up at three in the morning convinced I would fail you both."

"So you solved that fear by failing us early?"

He winced.

"Yes."

I had expected excuses. That answer was harder to fight because it was not one.

"Why Claire?"

"History. Guilt."

"Guilt for what?"

He looked down.

"When we were twenty-four, Claire and I were engaged for four months."

I knew they had dated seriously. I did not know about an engagement.

"You told me you almost moved in together."

"I lied by omission."

"Again."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you marry her?"

"Her younger brother, Simon, died in a car accident."

I waited.

"I was driving."

The air left my lungs.

"What?"

"We were coming home from a concert. A truck crossed the center line. Police said it wasn't my fault. Claire said it wasn't my fault. Her parents said it wasn't my fault. I believed none of them."

"You never told me."

"I couldn't talk about it for years. Claire and I fell apart afterward. Every time I looked at her, I saw Simon. Every time she looked at me, she saw the person who survived."

"And when she got sick?"

"It felt like I was being given a chance not to leave her alone in another disaster."

I sat back.

The story explained something.

It excused nothing.

"You could have told me."

"I should have."

"You could have said, 'Rachel, this is bringing back trauma I never dealt with.'"

"Yes."

"You could have gone to therapy instead of Switzerland for six months."

"Yes."

"You could have come home after you kissed her."

His face tightened.

"Yes."

I looked at him for a long moment.

"I need you to understand something. Learning why you did this does not make me want to stay married to you."

He nodded, but tears filled his eyes.

"I know."

"Do you? Because every time you explain yourself, part of you still looks like you're waiting for the explanation to become forgiveness."

He wiped his face with both hands.

"Maybe I am."

"Then stop."

He took a shaky breath.

"What do you want from me?"

"Truth. Consistency. Show up for Noah. Get therapy. Cooperate with the divorce."

"And us?"

"There is no us to repair right now."

"Right now."

"Don't turn that into hope."

His shoulders dropped.

"Okay."

Before we left, he reached for the door and stopped.

"There is one more thing."

I closed my eyes.

"Of course there is."

"The apartment lease was for three months. I renewed it."

"After Claire was discharged?"

"Before. But yes, it extended past her discharge."

"Why?"

"Because I had started thinking about staying in Zurich through the baby's birth."

I stared at him.

"You were going to miss the birth?"

"I told myself I would come back in time."

"That's not what you just said."

His voice became almost inaudible.

"Part of me thought it might be easier if I didn't."

The room seemed to shrink.

"Get out."

"Rachel—"

"Get out before I forget that Noah will someday need us to speak civilly to each other."

He left.

I sat alone for several minutes.

Then I called Avery.

"I want temporary custody terms drafted today," I said. "And I want every financial record from Zurich."

May you like

[COMPLETED] I Found the Mafia Boss Breathing in His Casket—Then He Refus...

[COMPLETED] My Mafia Boss Husband Spent the Night with His “Little Siste...

[COMPLETED] My Husband Slapped Me at the Country Club While I Was Pregna...

The explanation had given Ethan a past.

It had also shown me exactly how close he had come to abandoning our future on purpose.