Chapter 8: The Choice He Made Without Me
I couldn’t move.
“What decision?””
Scott didn’t answer.
He walked toward the table and picked up the folder again.
Not the separation papers.
Something underneath.
A smaller envelope.
“I didn’t want you to see this.””
My heart sank.
“Clearly.””
He flinched.
That reaction told me he knew he deserved it.
“I was scared.””
“You keep saying that.””
“I know.””
He looked exhausted.
“But it’s the truth.””
He opened the envelope.
Inside was a letter.
A hospital letter.
My hands started shaking.
“What is that?””
Scott sat down.
“It’s from when the babies were born.””
I stared at him.
“Why do you have it?””
He looked down.
“Because I made a decision without telling you.””
I took the letter.
The paper felt heavier than it should have.
I opened it.
The first line was from the hospital.
My eyes moved quickly.
Then I stopped.
“What is this?””
Scott’s voice was quiet.
“It was a recommendation.””
“For what?””
He swallowed.
“For me to get additional support.””
I looked at him.
“That’s not what you mean.””
He knew.
I knew.
There was something else.
I continued reading.
Then I saw the words.
A newborn care plan.
A temporary arrangement.
Support options.
And one sentence that made my entire body go cold.
Father requested information regarding temporary guardianship support due to concerns about maternal recovery.
I looked up slowly.
“What is this?””
Scott’s face turned pale.
“I never went through with it.””
“But you asked.””
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.””
The room tilted.
“You asked someone if they could take my babies?””
“No.””
“You asked.””
“I was scared!””
His voice cracked.
Then immediately softened.
“I thought you were going to die.””
I stared at him.
“And after I survived?””
He had no answer.
Because that was the question.
After I survived.
After I came home.
After I struggled.
After I needed him.
Why did he treat me like the damage left behind?
“I thought you weren’t recovering.””
I laughed bitterly.
“I was recovering.””
“I know that now.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“You knew.””
He looked confused.
“What?””
“You knew.””
I stepped closer.
“You went to doctor appointments with me.””
“You heard them explain my recovery.””
“You watched me get better.””
My voice broke.
“But you still decided I wasn’t enough.””
Scott looked devastated.
“That’s not what I thought.””
“Then what did you think?””
He didn’t answer.
And I realized something.
Maybe he didn’t even know.
Maybe he had spent so long hiding behind fear that he forgot what the truth was.
The front door suddenly opened.
We both turned.
Emily stood there.
I stared.
“What are you doing here?””
She held up a bag.
“Bringing dinner.””
Then she looked at our faces.
And immediately knew.
“What happened?””
Nobody answered.
Her eyes moved to the letter in my hand.
Then to Scott.
“You showed her?””
Scott nodded.
Emily closed her eyes.
“Finally.””
I looked at her.
“You knew about this too?””
She walked inside slowly.
“Yes.””
My chest tightened.
“How?””
Emily sat down.
“Because I found out when I visited after the birth.””
I looked at her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because I was afraid.””
That answer hurt.
“Everyone was afraid.””
Emily looked down.
“Yes.””
A pause.
“But you were the only one who didn’t get to choose.””
The truth of that sentence settled over me.
Everyone had been making decisions around me.
Scott.
The doctors.
My family.
Everyone.
And I had just been trying to survive.
Emily looked at Scott.
“I told you before.””
He looked at her.
“I know.””
“You can’t repair something by hiding the ugliest parts of yourself.””
Scott nodded.
“I know.””
Emily looked at me.
“I’m sorry.””
I believed her.
Because unlike Scott, she wasn’t asking me to forgive her.
She was acknowledging that she had failed me.
And somehow, that hurt less.
Scott stood.
“I want to fix this.””
I looked at him.
“I don’t know if you can.””
“I know.””
The answer surprised me.
“I know I can’t erase what happened.””
He looked toward the nursery.
“But I want to become someone our children can be proud of.””
I stared at him.
For the first time, he wasn’t talking about himself.
Not his pain.
Not his fear.
Not his guilt.
The children.
Me.
Us.
Then my phone buzzed.
I looked down.
A message.
From an unknown number.
My blood ran cold.
Because the preview showed a photo.
A photo of Scott.
A photo I had never seen before.
May you like
And underneath it were six words:
You deserve to know what he did.
