Chapter 7
I stared at the document Angela handed me.
My name was printed at the top.
MARCUS BENNETT.
Below it was a statement claiming I'd agreed that Malik would spend the next school year living with his aunt.
The reason given was:
FAMILY ADJUSTMENT AND HOUSEHOLD STABILITY.
My stomach twisted.
I read the sentence again.
Then I looked at the signature.
It resembled mine.
But I hadn't signed it.
I looked up.
“Angela, this is false.”
She nodded.
“We'll have the signature examined.”
I gripped the paper.
“She was trying to make it look like I wanted Malik gone.”
Angela's expression was serious.
“The document appears to make that claim.”
I closed my eyes.
For months, Denise had been telling Malik he was in the way.
She told Maya that Malik received too much attention.
She told Renee I'd agreed to send him away.
And now she'd apparently prepared paperwork supporting the same lie.
I felt sick.
“What happens next?”
Angela took a breath.
“We'll document the disputed authorization and address it through the appropriate legal process.”
I nodded.
“And Malik?”
“His stability remains the priority.”
I looked down.
I didn't want my son dragged into a complicated dispute.
He'd already lost his mother.
He didn't need to feel as though the family he'd rebuilt was falling apart again.
That evening, I sat beside him.
He was working on a science project.
A small model bridge sat on the dining table.
I watched him carefully glue two wooden pieces together.
Then I smiled.
“Looks good, buddy.”
He grinned.
“Thanks.”
I sat down.
“Can I help?”
He nodded.
“Hold this piece.”
I held it while he attached another support.
For a while, we worked quietly.
Then Malik looked at me.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Are you and Denise getting divorced?”
My chest tightened.
I set down the wooden piece.
Then took a breath.
“I'm working with an attorney because the marriage has serious problems.”
He looked down.
“Because of the cruise?”
I shook my head.
“The cruise made me realize things I should've noticed earlier.”
His eyes filled.
“Like what?”
“Like how unhappy you've been.”
He swallowed.
I continued.
“And how unfairly both you and Maya have been treated.”
Malik looked toward the kitchen.
Then whispered, “I don't want Maya to lose her mom.”
My heart broke.
I moved closer.
“Buddy, Maya's relationship with her mother is something the adults will need to handle carefully.”
He nodded.
“But neither you nor Maya caused this.”
Tears slipped down his cheeks.
I took his hand.
“You don't have to fix it.”
He looked up.
“And you don't have to choose sides.”
For a moment, he didn't speak.
Then he leaned forward.
I hugged him.
“I love you, Dad.”
My throat tightened.
“I love you too.”
The next morning, we went fishing.
Just the two of us.
We drove to a lake outside Atlanta.
The sun was rising when we arrived.
Malik carried the tackle box.
I brought the fishing rods.
For the first half hour, we barely spoke.
Then Malik caught a small fish.
He screamed with excitement.
“DAD!”
I laughed.
“Reel it in!”
He pulled carefully.
The fish flashed beneath the water.
Then we landed it.
Malik stared in amazement.
“I DID IT!”
I grinned.
“You sure did!”
He looked at me.
Then started laughing.
A real laugh.
Joyful.
Uncontrolled.
I felt tears rise.
We took a photograph.
Then carefully released the fish.
Malik watched it swim away.
For a moment, he looked thoughtful.
Then he whispered, “Mom would've liked that.”
My throat tightened.
I nodded.
“She would've loved it.”
He looked at me.
“Do you think she can see us?”
I took a breath.
“I don't know exactly what happens after someone dies.”
His eyes filled.
“But I know how much she loved you.”
He nodded.
“And I know she'd be proud of the person you're becoming.”
Malik smiled faintly.
Then leaned against me.
We sat beside the lake for a long time.
Talking.
Laughing.
Remembering Alicia.
For the first time in years, I didn't feel like I needed to avoid mentioning her.
I realized how much that mattered.
After marrying Denise, I'd slowly removed Alicia's photographs from the common rooms.
Denise said it made her uncomfortable.
She complained whenever Malik mentioned his mother at dinner.
I told myself I was protecting my new marriage.
Now I understood what I'd taken from my son.
He needed permission to remember Alicia.
Not pressure to forget her.
When we returned home, I went into the storage closet.
I found a box of photographs.
Alicia smiling beside Malik's crib.
Alicia holding him on his first birthday.
Alicia laughing in the kitchen.
I brought them into the living room.
Malik stared.
“Dad?”
I smiled.
“Want to help me choose some frames?”
His eyes widened.
“Really?”
I nodded.
“Really.”
He picked up a photograph of Alicia holding him at the beach.
His hands trembled.
“This one.”
I smiled through tears.
“Good choice.”
We framed it.
Then placed it on the living-room shelf.
For the first time in years, my son could see his mother in the room where our family gathered.
He stood looking at the picture.
Then whispered, “Thanks, Dad.”
I hugged him.
“You never have to thank me for remembering your mom.”
That evening, Maya came downstairs.
She noticed the photographs.
For a moment, she looked surprised.
Then she smiled.
“She's pretty.”
Malik nodded proudly.
“That's my mom.”
Maya looked at the photograph.
Then whispered, “I wish I'd met her.”
My heart softened.
Malik smiled.
“She would've liked you.”
Maya's eyes filled.
Then she hugged him.
I watched them and felt hope.
Our family was changing.
But maybe the truth would allow us to build something better.
Several weeks later, the document examination supported my statement that the signature on the relocation agreement was not authentic.
Angela informed me that the matter had been referred for further investigation.
The attempted arrangement was not implemented.
Malik remained at home.
His school enrollment stayed unchanged.
And his daily life became more stable.
I felt enormous relief.
But Denise still refused to acknowledge the harm.
Through her attorney, she claimed she'd only been exploring options.
She said she was overwhelmed by blended-family responsibilities.
She insisted she'd never intended to abandon Malik.
But the messages.
The canceled ticket.
The false document.
And the statements she'd made to both children painted a troubling picture.
I knew I couldn't repair the marriage by pretending those things hadn't happened.
Then one evening, Denise requested a conversation through counsel.
I agreed to discuss practical separation matters.
Not to argue.
Not to punish her.
But to find a way forward.
When she entered the meeting room, she looked tired.
Her highlighted braided ponytail was neatly tied.
She wore a simple black blouse.
For a moment, I remembered the woman I'd married.
The one who promised to love Malik.
The one who said we were becoming a family.
I felt grief rise.
Then she looked at me.
“Marcus.”
I nodded.
“Denise.”
She took a breath.
“I never wanted this.”
I stared at her.
“Then why did you cancel my son's ticket?”
Her eyes filled.
For a moment, she couldn't answer.
May you like
Then she whispered something that made my chest tighten.
“Because I wanted to know if you'd finally choose me.”
