Chapter 6 - THE FIRST LIE THAT BROKE
“Who knows something?” I asked.
Mark hit a button, clearing the notification.
“My mom is dramatic.”
“About what?”
He stared at the road.
“Probably dinner.”
“Mark.”
“What?”
“Look at me.”
“I’m driving.”
“Then pull over.”
He didn’t.
I laughed once.
It sounded strange.
“You’re scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
“You are.”
“Lena, stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Trying to start something.”
I looked at his profile.
The man I had loved since I was twenty-seven.
The man who cried during our wedding vows.
The man who painted the nursery wall twice because I changed my mind about the color.
I wanted him to be innocent so badly that it physically hurt.
So I gave him one chance.
“Are you trying to take my baby away from me?”
The car drifted slightly.
He corrected it.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“That’s insane.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Then answer.”
“I just did.”
“No. You called the question insane.”
He slammed his palm against the steering wheel.
“Because it is!”
My body jumped.
He saw it.
Immediately his voice softened.
“Sorry.”
I said nothing.
He pulled into our driveway.
I stayed seated after he shut off the engine.
“Mark.”
He sighed.
“What?”
“Have you met with a family lawyer about custody?”
Silence.
That was my answer.
His head snapped toward me.
“How do you know that?”
I felt something inside me break.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
It was almost peaceful.
Because doubt was over.
“So you did.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He got out of the car.
I followed him inside.
“Tell me why.”
“Not while you’re like this.”
I stopped in the entryway.
“Like what?”
“Upset.”
“My husband secretly met a custody attorney with his mother.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then tell me what it was like.”
He tossed his keys onto the counter.
“Mom wanted legal advice.”
“About my daughter.”
“About protecting everybody.”
“From me?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“You’ve been unpredictable.”
I stared at him.
“Unpredictable.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“You cry.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“You get angry.”
“You lie to me.”
“You’re proving my point.”
There it was.
The trap.
If I fought back, I was unstable.
If I cried, I was unstable.
If I demanded answers, I was unstable.
I lowered my voice.
“Did you alter a medical release form after I signed it?”
His face drained of color.
That told me everything.
“Lena—”
“Oh my God.”
“You don’t understand.”
“You forged my authorization.”
“I didn’t forge your signature.”
“You added language after I signed!”
“I was trying to get information.”
“Private medical information!”
“I’m your husband!”
“You are not my owner!”
He stepped toward me.
I stepped back.
His eyes dropped to the movement.
“You think I’d hurt you?”
“I don’t know what you’d do anymore.”
He looked wounded.
For one weak second, guilt hit me.
Then I remembered the custody plan.
The nursery.
The lies.
“I need space.”
“You’re not leaving.”
My heart skipped.
“What?”
He immediately changed his tone.
“I mean you shouldn’t leave. You’re eight months pregnant.”
“I’m going to Rachel’s.”
“That would be a bad idea.”
“Why?”
“Because running off when you’re emotional looks bad.”
There it was.
Not concern.
A warning.
I took out my phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Rachel.”
He stepped between me and the door.
“Lena.”
“Move.”
“Can we just talk?”
“Move.”
“You’re making this bigger than it is.”
I raised my voice.
“Move away from the door.”
His eyes flicked toward my phone.
Then toward the small security camera in the corner of the living room.
And suddenly, he stepped away.
“Fine.”
I understood immediately.
He had remembered the camera.
He didn’t want footage of himself blocking a pregnant woman from leaving.
I walked upstairs.
Packed a small bag.
My hands shook so badly I dropped my toothbrush twice.
When I came back down, Mark was sitting on the couch.
He looked devastated.
“I love you.”
I stopped.
He whispered, “I do.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
“You don’t secretly build a case against someone you love.”
“It got out of control.”
“You helped it get out of control.”
“My mom convinced me you might not be okay.”
“And instead of talking to me, you talked to a lawyer.”
He looked down.
That silence hurt more than anything.
I walked toward the door.
Then he said, “Lena.”
I turned.
“If you leave tonight, Mom says we should file tomorrow.”
I stared at him.
“File what?”
May you like
He swallowed.
“For emergency temporary custody.”
