The entire room went still. Grant closed his eyes, his attorney stopped writing, and Naomi’s hand became motionless beside mine. Marjorie tried to soften the insult by calling Aubrey’s baby a grandchild rather than an heir, but her meaning was unmistakable. Until I became pregnant, I had been useful only as Grant’s respectable wife; now that I carried another child, they suddenly wanted me back.
“My pregnancy does not erase what happened,” I told them. “And it does not restore your access to me.” Marjorie accused me of depriving my baby of an intact family because my pride had been wounded. I reminded her that the family had been broken by Grant’s year-long betrayal, not by my refusal to forgive it.
Grant claimed he wanted to repair our marriage, so I asked whether he loved Aubrey. He avoided the question, saying only that she was the mother of his son and that love was complicated. “Cowardice is complicated,” I answered. “Love is usually clear.”
Marjorie rose furiously and declared that she would not listen while I insulted her son. Naomi closed the file and told her she was free to leave because she was not part of the marriage. Before storming out, Marjorie warned that I would regret being alone with a baby and no husband. “I was alone with a husband,” I replied. “I think I can survive without one.”
