Chapter 13
After the trial, I filed for separation.
Michael did not fight it.
“I deserve worse,” he said.
“That is not the point.”
“What is?”
“Safety.”
He nodded.
We created a parenting plan with therapists and lawyers.
Supervised visits at first.
Then short outings with Emily’s consent.
No secrets.
No Linda.
No Carter relatives who defended her.
Michael followed every rule.
I watched for resentment.
I found shame.
Regret.
Work.
Not perfection.
Work.
Emily noticed too.
“He listens better now,” she said one day after therapy.
“How does that feel?”
“Weird.”
“Good weird or bad weird?”
“Careful weird.”
That sounded right.
Noah grew round and bright.
He adored Emily.
She adored pretending he annoyed her.
Megan remained our fortress.
She called herself “the aunt with snacks and consequences.”
Emily loved that.
I moved into a small house near Megan.
Michael helped pay without asking for gratitude.
The first night there, Emily chose where Noah’s crib would go.
“Not near windows,” she said.
“Okay.”
“And no one gets keys except us and Aunt Megan.”
“Okay.”
She looked at me.
“You really listen.”
I knelt.
“Always.”
Her face softened.
May you like
“I know.”
That was the first time I believed we might heal.
