Chapter 8 - EMILY FILED WHILE SHE STILL LOVED HIM
Ryan came to Anne’s house once.
He stayed on the sidewalk.
That was smart.
He called Emily.
She looked through the front window at him standing beside his SUV.
Black T-shirt.
Jeans.
Hands in his pockets.
Not the man in the funeral suit.
For one terrible second he looked like the person she married.
Emily answered.
“What?”
“Come outside.”
“No.”
“I’m not going to touch you.”
The fact that he needed to say it made her stomach turn.
“Then talk from there.”
Ryan looked toward the house.
“Owen is destroying Dad.”
“No.”
“He’s taking things Dad said when he was drugged and turning them into some story.”
“Did you approve the funeral program?”
Silence.
“Ryan.”
“Yes.”
“Knowing I said no.”
“It was Dad’s wish.”
“You knew Owen disputed that.”
“He doesn’t know everything.”
“Do you?”
Another silence.
Ryan changed direction.
“You’re carrying my son.”
“Our son.”
“My son too.”
“Yes.”
“I have rights.”
Emily stared at him through the glass.
“When he is born, we will deal with your rights through the appropriate process.”
Ryan stepped closer to the yard.
“So this is what your lawyer told you to say?”
“No.”
He looked genuinely hurt.
Emily hated that.
“You’re really divorcing me over one bad moment.”
She closed her eyes.
Five years of marriage.
Six years together before that.
Weekend trips.
Mortgage payments.
Inside jokes.
Thomas teaching them how to smoke brisket.
Ryan sitting on the bathroom floor holding a pregnancy test and crying.
The man outside had been part of all of those moments.
The grave did not erase them.
It changed what Emily could safely do with them.
“I’m filing because you shoved me into a grave.”
“I lost my father.”
“So did Owen.”
“He betrayed him.”
“No.”
Emily’s voice cracked.
“He contradicted you.”
Ryan stared.
That was the real offense.
Emily had begun noticing it everywhere.
To Ryan, disagreement became betrayal when it reached a point he could not control.
“I loved you,” she whispered.
Ryan’s expression softened.
“Then come home.”
Emily’s hand tightened around the curtain.
There it was.
Love as a reason to return to the exact place where safety had failed.
“No.”
She ended the call.
The next morning Jessica filed.
Separation and divorce process.
Protective measures.
Requests governing contact and property.
No unborn-child custody order masquerading as certainty.
They would address parenting after birth.
Emily cried after signing.
Anne sat beside her.
“You can change your mind.”
Emily looked at the signature.
“No.”
She wiped her face.
May you like
“I can miss him and still not go back.”
That was the most expensive emotional decision she had ever made.
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