I stood motionless by the rainsplattered window, the night outside a black mirror, a halffull glass of Scotch clutched in my fist. The clock ticked, each beat a hollow echo that stretched the seconds into jagged shards of silence.
Emily was late.
Far, far too late.
Then headlights sliced through the gloom, spilling harsh light onto the cobbled street. A sleek black sedan rolled to a halt in front of the terraced house on Willow Lane. My heart tightened like a knot. In the drivers seat a tall, selfassured stranger stared back at me, his silhouette sharp against the streetlamps.
The passenger door swung open.
And Emily stepped out.
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
She smileda light, effortless grin, the kind that seemed to belong to the night itself. She leaned toward him, whispered something soft, and he laughed, a quiet, intimate chuckle.
She closed the door and drifted back toward the house, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me.
My blood boiled.
Who was this man? How long had this been happening? Was this the first time?
Emily slipped inside, tossing her handbag onto the kitchen table as if nothing had occurred.
Who was that? My voice was low, edged with steel.
She froze, eyes wide in startled surprise. Excuse me?
This man in the carwho is he?
She let out a weary sigh, irritation flickering across her face. Mark, not again Hes the husband of Sarah. He gave me a lift, thats all. Are you serious?
But her words fell into a void. All I heard was a low, seething rage, a heat that smeared across my skull, a torrent of dark thoughts.
My hand rose of its own accord.
The slap cracked through the room.
Emily recoiled, a hand trembling against her cheek. A thin line of blood slipped from her nose.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
She stared at me, frozen, eyes dilated with terror.
A knot tightened in my throat.
I had crossed a line.
A line I could never step back across.
She made no sound. No scream. No tears. She simply gathered her coat and left.
The next morning a bailiff handed me the papers for the divorce. I had lost everything even my son.
I put up with your jealousy for years, Emily said in our final conversation, her voice as cold as ice, but I could never accept violence.
I begged her forgiveness, swore it was a mistake, a fleeting lapse, that it would never happen again. She heard none of it.
The final blow came in court. She told the judge I was also violent with our child.
A lie.
A cruel, twisting lie that sealed my fate.
I had never raised a hand against him, never shouted at him. Yet who could believe a man who had once struck his wife?
The judge didnt hesitate. Emily secured sole custody.
Me? A few hours a week, a restricted visiting right in a neutral setting.
No nights at home. No mornings to make his breakfast.
For six months my life shrank to those thin slices of time, when he would run to me laughing, his tiny arms looping around my neck, only for me to watch him leave again and again.
Then one afternoon, as he nudged his little toy cars across the kitchen table, he looked up with the pure honesty of a fiveyearold and said,
Dad, last night Mum wasnt here. There was a lady with me.
My heart stopped.
A lady? Which lady? I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
I dont know. She comes when Mum goes out.
A chill ran down my spine.
Where does she go? I pressed.
He shrugged. She doesnt tell me.
My fingers clenched.
I had to know.
When the truth emerged, my throat tightened like a rope. Emily had hired a nanny.
A foreign woman.
While I begged for more time with my own son, she was leaving him in the care of a stranger.
I snatched my phone and called her.
Why is a stranger looking after our child when Im here? I demanded.
Her voice was calm, icy. Because its simpler.
Simpler?! My anger roared. Im his father! If he cant be with you, he must be with me!
She sighed. Thomas, Im not going to drive across the city every time I have an appointment. Stop turning everything into your battle.
My hand trembled around the phone.
What could I do? Sue her? Fight for custody?
And if I lost again?
One mistake. One slip.
And everything would be taken from me.
But my son
I would not let him slip away.
I would fight.
Because he is the only thing I have left.
