Chapter 5 - THE MAN WHO WANTED TO BE A FATHER
Julian had always wanted children.
That was one of the reasons I married him.
On our third date, he told me he dreamed of designing a house with a large backyard, a treehouse, and a kitchen where children could make terrible pancakes.
I loved that image.
I loved the idea of ordinary happiness.
When we struggled to conceive, we went through testing together.
At first, Julian was supportive.
Then the results arrived.
He withdrew.
He stopped attending appointments.
He refused to discuss donor conception.
He dismissed adoption.
Every suggestion seemed to remind him of something he believed he'd lost.
His masculinity.
His pride.
His place in the Vance family.
I tried to reassure him.
I told him I loved him.
I told him biology didn't determine the value of a father.
But he heard every conversation as criticism.
Eventually, we stopped talking about children.
Or rather, I stopped bringing them up.
Now Julian was planning a nursery.
Margaret had hired an interior designer.
Chloe had moved into the house Julian and I once shared.
And I was negotiating the division of eleven years of marriage.
Rebecca showed me the preliminary financial disclosures.
Julian's apartment payments were only the beginning.
He had bought Chloe jewelry.
Paid for vacations.
Transferred money into an account she controlled.
Some of those funds came from marital assets.
Rebecca explained that the transactions could matter during the property division.
I stared at the documents.
“Can we recover everything?”
“We can seek an appropriate accounting and equitable resolution,” she said. “The court will evaluate the evidence.”
I nodded.
Then Rebecca handed me another document.
A letter from Julian's attorney.
He wanted to retain the marital home.
He proposed that I accept a smaller cash settlement in exchange for avoiding prolonged litigation.
I read the letter.
Then looked up.
“Does he think I'll agree?”
Rebecca's expression remained neutral.
“He may be hoping you want this finished quickly.”
I thought about Margaret.
About her insistence that I behave with dignity.
About Julian's email asking me not to make the divorce bitter.
They all wanted the same thing.
For me to leave quietly.
Without asking questions.
Without claiming what was mine.
I placed the letter on the desk.
“Then they're going to be disappointed.”
Rebecca smiled faintly.
“What would you like to do?”
“Get a fair accounting of everything.”
She nodded.
“That's exactly what we're here for.”
That evening, Naomi invited me to dinner.
We sat in a little Italian restaurant near Green Lake.
For the first time in weeks, I laughed.
Not because anything was funny about my marriage.
Because Naomi told a ridiculous story about accidentally joining a neighborhood bird-watching group.
I laughed so hard I cried.
Then I cried for real.
Naomi moved beside me.
“Hey.”
I shook my head.
“I thought I knew them.”
She squeezed my hand.
“I know.”
I looked at her.
“I thought Chloe would always be my person.”
Naomi's eyes softened.
“Sometimes the people we love are capable of hurting us in ways strangers never could.”
I stared at my plate.
Then whispered, “I don't know who I am without them.”
May you like
Naomi smiled sadly.
“Then maybe it's time to find out.”
