Chapter 4
I just hung up the phone.
The sunlight poured in through the window, warm and inviting.
I drained the last of my coffee, got up, and headed for the office elevator.
Five years ago, I was Camille Massy, just a housewife.
Five years later, I was Camille Fairbank, founder of Norizon Design.
The world Alban imagined I was stuck in had been gone for a long time.
He had no idea what my life looked like now.
I thought Alban would call Gary right away.
But he didn't.
Maybe his pride wouldn't let him admit defeat so quickly.
Or maybe he was still stunned by the realization that the house might not belong to him after all.
He didn't show up, but his family did.
That afternoon, I was in a meeting when my phone rang.
It was an unfamiliar landline number.
I hung up.
But it rang again almost immediately.
I frowned, excused myself to my colleagues, and stepped out of the meeting room to answer.
"Camille, is that you?" A voice, old yet familiar, came through the line.
It was Beata Massy, Alban's mother.
My heart sank.
"Mom, it's me," I said.
I still called her 'Mom', just out of basic respect for her.
Beata said, her voice trembling, almost crying, "Camille, at last you picked up.
"Why didn't you answer Alban's calls? Do you even realize he spent the whole night at a hotel? He had nowhere else to go.
"He just got back to the country. He's completely lost here. How could you treat him like this?"
I just listened quietly, letting Beata say whatever she wanted.
I didn't interrupt, didn't bother to defend myself.
"Alban mentioned there's a child with you?" Beata asked, her voice cautious and probing.
Her voice was cautious, almost tentative.
"Camille, does that child belong to the Massy family?
"Alban is losing his mind over this. Please, just tell me, tell me, is she really my granddaughter?"
I leaned against the wall in the hallway, gazing out at the city skyline.
My heart was perfectly still.
I said softly, "Mom."
"Yes? Go on, I'm listening," Beata replied.
"In the past five years, has Alban ever called you?" Camille asked quietly.
Beata was suddenly silent on the other end.
I continued, my voice steady.
I asked, "Has he ever sent you or Dad any money?
"Has he ever checked in on your health? Has he ever cared how you and Dad were doing?
"Has he ever told you when he'd be back?"
All I could hear was Beata's heavy, stifled breathing on the other end.
I already knew the answer was negative.
For the past five years, Alban had vanished, as if he'd disappeared off the face of the earth.
He'd been gone from our lives, mine and his parents', just the same.
Beata's voice trembled. "Camille, you... Alban was caught up in his research and his work..."
I replied quietly, "Yeah, he was busy.
"So busy that for five years, he forgot he had a wife and parents right here.
"Now he comes back, finds out the house is gone, and suddenly remembers you all.
"Mom, don't you think that's just a little too absurd?"
My words pierced through every excuse she'd woven for her son.
There was a long silence on the other end.
Finally, she let out a sigh, her voice heavy with exhaustion.
Beata said, "Camille, whatever happened, he's your husband and the father of your child.
"Don't let a fight last overnight. Just talk to him, okay?
"Let him come home, please?"
I cut her off, "Mom.
"Honestly, maybe you should take all these questions straight to your son instead of asking me.
"Ask him if he kept Irene by his side all these years for his research, or was there another reason?
"And while you're at it, ask him if he's staying at the hotel with Irene too."
After I finished, I heard Beata gasp on the other end of the line.
I said, "Alright, Mom, I'm still in a meeting, so I have to go.
"Take care of yourself."
I hung up without looking back.
Alban thought that dragging his parents into this would make me back down.
But he was wrong.
His biggest mistake was thinking everyone around him was a fool.
He forgot that his selfishness never just hurt me. It hurt everyone around him.
That evening, I went to pick up Lara from kindergarten.
From a distance, I spotted a woman standing by the kindergarten entrance.
She had long hair, a flowing dress, and a slender figure.
It was Irene.
She saw me from afar and came right up to me.
Her expression was perfectly balanced, apologetic, yet gentle.
"Mrs. Massy," she greeted me, still using that familiar title.
It was as if nothing had ever happened between us.
I didn't even acknowledge her and headed straight for the kindergarten entrance.
"Mrs. Massy, can I talk to you for a moment?" Irene called out, her voice gentle but carrying just enough for the nearby parents to notice.
She followed behind me, speaking quietly, but her words were still audible to the other parents picking up their kids.
"Just a few minutes," Irene said.
I stopped and turned around.
Lara's little head peeked out from the doorway.
"Mommy!" she called out, her voice full of joy.
She came running over to me, her steps light and happy.
I bent down, scooped her up, and kissed her cheek.
"Were you a good girl today, Lara?" I asked.
"Yes. Teacher gave me a red sticker!" she replied, her eyes sparkling with pride.
She held out her hand to show me the sticker, beaming.
I looked up at Irene.
My eyes were cold, showing no warmth.
"There's nothing for us to talk about," I said.
Irene's eyes were locked onto Lara, barely moving.
Her expression was hard to read, there was jealousy, a sharp scrutiny, and a barely concealed scheming behind it all.
"Mrs. Massy, I know you resent me, and Alban too," Irene said, her voice sincere.
Her tone was earnest.
She admitted, "Back then, we were in the wrong. But Alban never stopped caring about you."