Chapter 9 - The Clearing Fog
By January, the divorce proceedings were moving forward with surgical efficiency.
Wade, stripped of his mother's grand legal strategy after the disastrous mediation session, surrendered to Sarah Jenkins’ terms. He agreed to supervised visits with June at a neutral community center twice a week, signed over his rights to the Cambridge apartment lease, and agreed to pay full child support alongside a monthly repayment plan for the funds he had taken from our joint account.
Darlene’s life rapidly unraveled.
With Bethany refusing to speak to her and the rest of the extended family learning the truth about the financial debts she had saddled onto Wade, her status as the family's central figure dissolved. Relatives stopped attending her Sunday dinners. Cousin Celia deleted her live-streamed videos, sending me a private, embarrassed text message apologizing for her involvement.
One crisp Saturday afternoon in February, the sun was shining bright over the snow-covered streets of Cambridge.
I sat in my living room, watching June—now four months old—pushing herself up on her forearms on a colorful play mat, letting out small, bubbling squeals of delight as she reached for a wooden rattle.
Aunt Gwen was in the kitchen, chopping fresh vegetables for a stew, the warm scent of broth filling the clean, peaceful apartment.
The doorbell rang.
I walked to the door, checking the peephole. Standing outside was Wade.
He was alone. He was wearing an old navy jacket I remembered from our second year of marriage—a jacket Darlene had always hated because it wasn't expensive enough. His eyes were clear, though lined with profound sorrow.
I unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door, standing in the doorway.
"Hi, Maren," he said softly.
"Hi, Wade."
He held out a small paper bag from a local bookstore. "I brought a book for June. A board book about farm animals. I can leave it on the table if you want."
"You can give it to her," I said, stepping back to let him into the foyer. "She’s awake on her play mat."
Wade took off his shoes, leaving them neatly by the door. He walked into the living room, dropping to his knees beside the play mat. June looked up at him, her wide, bright blue eyes fixing onto his face, letting out a soft, happy coo.
Wade reached out with a hand that no longer trembled, gently touching her small fingers. "Hi, sweet girl. Hi, June."
Tears filled his eyes, but he wiped them away quickly, looking up at me where I stood near the kitchen counter.
"I moved into a small apartment near my office last week," Wade said quietly. "I'm... I'm going to therapy twice a week, Maren. Dr. Evans is helping me understand why I could never say no to my mother."
"I'm glad to hear that, Wade," I said genuinely. "For your sake, and for June's."
"I know I lost you," he whispered, his voice thick with uncontainable regret. "I know I lost my home, my marriage, and the right to be here every day. I’m not asking for another chance, Maren. I know I don't deserve one. I just want you to know... I hate myself for what I did to you that day."
May you like
I looked at him—the man I had once loved, the man who had lost his way in his mother’s shadow—and for the first time in months, I felt no anger, no bitterness, and no weight in my chest.
"I don't hate you, Wade," I said softly. "I just hope you learn how to stand up for yourself... so that when June grows up, she sees a father who knows how to stand up for her."
