Chapter 4
"I already told Maya she can stay with us for a few weeks."
Ethan said it while I was putting breakfast on the table.
I stopped.
"You already told her?"
"A pipe burst in her apartment building last night. The repair company said it'll take at least two or three weeks."
"So you invited her before you even told me?"
Ethan frowned.
"She already stayed here last night. What difference does a few more days make?"
I thought of the pregnancy pillow and toiletries in the guest room.
Apparently, they were about to come in handy sooner than I'd expected.
Maya came back that morning with two suitcases.
She stood in the doorway looking apologetic.
"Claire, if this isn't a good time, I can stay at a hotel."
Before I could answer, Ethan had already taken her suitcases.
"You're seven months pregnant. Why would you stay in a hotel?"
He carried her luggage into the guest room without asking me again.
That afternoon, I was passing the stairs when I heard Ethan telling Maya that the guest room was too far from the downstairs bathroom.
"It'll be inconvenient going back and forth at night."
Maya said, "It's fine. I can take my time."
But Ethan looked upstairs.
"Sophie's room is right next to the bathroom, and it's bigger."
I stopped.
"What do you mean?"
"It's only temporary," he said. "Sophie can sleep in the study for a few weeks."
"No."
He clearly hadn't expected me to refuse so quickly.
"There's a sofa bed in the study."
"That still doesn't make it Sophie's room."
"Maya might need to use the bathroom a lot during the night."
"So?"
Ethan lowered his voice.
"Claire, don't make this into something it doesn't need to be."
I looked at him.
"I'm not the one asking our daughter to move out of her own room."
Maya immediately spoke up.
"Really, it's fine. I can stay in the guest room."
"You don't have to keep being so polite," Ethan said.
Then he looked at me.
"Sophie would only be sleeping in another room for a few weeks. She's twelve. She'll understand."
Understand.
Again.
Because she was twelve, she was supposed to understand.
Because she had both parents, she was supposed to understand.
Because Maya was pregnant, everyone was supposed to understand.
"She's not moving," I said.
Ethan's expression darkened.
"Do you really have to make such a big deal over one room?"
"It's her room."
"It's our house too."
I didn't answer.
That night, I went to check whether Noah was asleep.
As I passed the kitchen, I heard Maya's voice.
"Ethan, I really don't want me or the baby to cause problems for your family."
I stopped outside the door.
"Claire's just been a little sensitive lately," he said.
"Because of me?"
"It's not your fault."
After a brief silence, Maya said softly,
"If she doesn't want me here, I can go to a hotel tomorrow."
"You're not going anywhere."
Ethan answered without hesitation.
"Claire will understand. She's always been better at handling things like this than most people."
Standing outside the door, I suddenly understood.
He had taken my understanding for granted for a long time.
He had come to expect it.
Whenever Maya needed something, he said yes first.
Whether the kids and I were okay with it—
We'd understand in the end anyway.
I reached out and pushed open the kitchen door.
They both looked at me.
Ethan paused.
"You're still awake?"
I didn't look at Maya.
I only looked at my husband.
"No," I said. "Not this time. This time, I don't understand."