Chapter 6 - THE HOUSE THAT NEVER FORGOT HER
I visited the Moretti estate because Alexander asked me to see something.
I made him promise Oliver would remain with my friend Jenna for the afternoon.
He agreed.
The house looked exactly as I remembered.
White stone.
Tall windows.
An enormous staircase.
A garden that had always seemed too beautiful for the people living inside it.
But when I entered the dining room, I stopped.
The anniversary table was gone.
Of course it was.
Five years had passed.
Still, I remembered every detail.
The candles.
The flowers.
The small gift box.
The pregnancy test hidden inside.
Alexander stood beside me.
“I never forgot that night.”
I looked at him.
“Neither did I.”
He swallowed.
“I found the box.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“After you left.”
I stared.
He continued.
“It was in the kitchen drawer.”
My eyes filled.
“You opened it?”
Alexander nodded.
“Yes.”
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
The pregnancy test.
The tiny pair of baby socks.
The note I'd written.
We're going to have a baby.
“You knew before the letter,” I whispered.
Alexander looked down.
“Yes.”
The admission struck harder than anything else.
“You knew.”
His voice broke.
“I found it two days after you disappeared.”
I stepped back.
“And you still didn't come?”
Alexander closed his eyes.
“I tried.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Claire, I went to your attorney. I was told you'd left the state and didn't want contact. Then the letter arrived.”
I stared.
“And you believed it.”
“Yes.”
“Because it was easier than fighting for us.”
Alexander flinched.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then whispered:
“Because I believed I had already destroyed us.”
He took me upstairs.
Not to our old bedroom.
To a room across the hall.
A child's room.
Pale blue walls.
Bookshelves.
A small wooden train set.
And a framed photograph of a baby.
Oliver.
Six months old.
I recognized the picture.
I'd sent it to Rebecca.
My knees weakened.
“How did you get that?”
Alexander's voice was quiet.
“Rebecca sent it.”
I turned.
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
I stared.
He looked at the photograph.
“She said I should know what my son looked like.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks.
“And you did nothing.”
Alexander nodded.
“Yes.”
No excuses.
No explanations.
May you like
Just the truth.
And somehow, that was worse.
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