Chapter 7
We met at the kitchen table in the house where Ava had learned to walk.
Nia made tea. I sat opposite her, looking at the pencil marks Ava had left along one edge of the table years ago. We had always meant to sand them away. I was glad we never did.
“I miss you,” Nia said.
I held the warm cup without drinking. “I miss parts of us too.”
“I’m still going to counseling. I’m trying to understand why I hid things instead of telling you I was unhappy.”
“I’m glad you’re doing that.”
She looked at me. “Could we try counseling together?”
I had imagined hearing those words when I carried flowers up the stairs. I had been ready to promise almost anything then.
“I’ll go to talk,” I said. “I can’t promise we’ll stay married.”
“I know.”
I wanted to be fair to her and honest with myself. I had loved Nia for thirteen years. I could not pretend that vanished when I found her with Vanessa. I also could not return to our old life by agreeing to a few appointments.
We met with a marriage counselor named Dr. Moore. In the first session, he asked us why we had come.
“I want to know whether we can rebuild trust,” Nia said.
“I want to understand whether we still want the same kind of marriage,” I said.
Dr. Moore asked what had happened before the separation. We spoke about long workdays, missed conversations, and Nia’s growing resentment. I admitted that I often answered her complaints by promising to try harder without asking what she needed. She admitted that she had stopped bringing problems to me and begun sharing them with Vanessa instead.
None of that excused the affair or the plan to move Ava. Nia said so herself.
At the second session, I asked her about the day I arrived with flowers.
“Were you going to tell me about Vanessa before you moved?” I asked.
Nia held her hands together. “I kept changing the date in my head. I told myself I would do it after the apartment was settled. I don’t know whether I would have been brave enough.”
It was painful to hear. It was also the first answer she had given me without trying to make it easier on either of us.
Afterward, we walked to our cars in silence.
“Thank you for telling me,” I said.
“I’m sorry it took so long.”
At home, I called Julian. He listened while I talked about counseling. Then he asked, “When you picture next year, do you want to be married to Nia, or do you want the old family picture back?”
I looked at Ava’s paper crown on my shelf. I had kept it since the concert.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Then take time.”
I did. For two more months, Nia and I met with Dr. Moore. We still attended Ava’s events together. We still followed the parenting plan. The more stable Ava’s days became, the more room I had to think about my own future.
The investigation into Vanessa’s paperwork also moved forward. Priya told me Vanessa had agreed to a formal resolution requiring her to acknowledge that she submitted the statement without my permission, correct the records with the property manager, and accept the consequences set by the authorities. I reviewed the written acknowledgment. It stated plainly that the signature was not mine.
I did not feel pleased by Vanessa’s trouble. I felt relieved that the truth was no longer something Nia and I had to argue about.
Ava turned ten in March. She asked for a small party at a skating rink. Nia and I planned it together, each taking a list of tasks. Denise brought the cake. Julian helped children with their skates. Ava fell twice, got up both times, and begged for another hour.
When the party ended, Nia and I loaded gifts into our separate cars. Ava ran between us with two balloons tied to her wrist.
“Can Dad come for cake at home too?” she asked.
Nia looked at me. “You’re welcome to.”
I went. We ate leftover cake at the kitchen table with Denise. Ava opened a drawing set from Nia and a small camera from me. She took photographs of all of us, though we kept blinking at the wrong moment.
Later, after Ava went upstairs, Nia walked me to the door.
“I’m glad you came,” she said.
“So am I.”
I knew then that we could share a good evening without being husband and wife in the way we once were. It made me sad. It also gave me hope that Ava would not lose either of us.
At our next counseling session, I told Nia I wanted a divorce.
She cried. I cried too.
“I understand,” she said after a long time. “I wish I’d understood what I was losing before I put you in that bedroom.”
“I wish we’d spoken honestly before we got there.”
Dr. Moore gave us time. When the session ended, Nia and I agreed we would tell Ava together after we had a clear plan.
May you like
That night, I went home to my apartment and found a photograph Ava had printed from her camera. It showed Nia and me at the birthday table, laughing at something outside the frame.
I put it on the shelf beside her paper crown.
