Three Weeks Later
The room smelled of stale coffee and cheap air freshener.
A clock ticked on the wall, each second dragging between us. Sophie was with my mother, happily making cookies and decorating them.
“Don’t worry, Simon,” my mom reassured me. “I’ll keep your grandbaby entertained. You go sort things out with Claire.”
Now, Claire sat across from me. Her hands were stiff in her lap, her eyes flicking nervously between me and the mediator.
I hardly recognized her anymore.
She wasn’t frantic like the night she left. She was composed, lips painted soft pink, wearing the pearl earrings I had given her on our anniversary.
But something felt forced. Like she had practiced regret in front of a mirror.
“I made a mistake,” she finally said, breaking the silence. “I wasn’t in my right mind.”
I exhaled slowly, glancing at Ellen, the mediator, who watched us intently, pen poised over a legal pad.
Claire turned to me, her voice softer now.
“Simon, I… I let fear take over. I wasn’t ready. But I’ve had time to think. I want to come home. I want to fix this.”
I stayed silent.
What was there to fix?
She had called our daughter manipulative. A four-year-old child was manipulative in her eyes?
She had given me an ultimatum—like Sophie was disposable.
And now, after a year, loneliness and the weight of her choices made her want to undo it?
“You didn’t just leave me, Claire,” I said. “You left her.”
“I was overwhelmed…” She flinched.
“We both were,” I said. “But I didn’t walk away.”
Claire opened her mouth to speak, but I wasn’t finished.
“Do you know what Sophie did after you left?” My voice shook, but I pressed on. “She cried herself to sleep for weeks. She woke up calling for you, thinking she did something wrong.”
“Simon…” Claire’s eyes were glassy now.
I shook my head. “You broke her. And I won’t let you do it again.”
Silence.
Ellen cleared her throat.
“Simon, just to clarify, you’re saying that reconciliation is not an option?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” I replied.
“I still love you, Simon,” Claire whispered.
“I don’t love you anymore,” I said, meeting her gaze without hesitation.
The truth hung in the air, cold and final. Claire let out a quiet sob, but I didn’t reach for her. I didn’t comfort her.
The woman I had loved had chosen to be a stranger.
And I had already chosen Sophie.
