Chapter 4

The next morning, Ryan made coffee as if nothing had happened.

Lucy sat at the kitchen table without speaking. The stuffed unicorn remained upstairs on her dresser.

“I’ll check the planetarium schedule today,” Ryan told her. “Maybe we can go Saturday.”

Lucy kept her eyes on her cereal.

Ryan looked at me. “She’ll get over it faster if you stop encouraging this.”

I folded my hands beneath the table. “You should leave before you’re late.”

He leaned down and kissed my forehead.

“See you tonight.”

By eight fifteen, his car had disappeared around the corner.

I waited five minutes before calling the family-law attorney my sister had recommended.

The consultation lasted less than half an hour. I explained the transfers, the messages and why I wanted to take Lucy somewhere else for a while.

“Document the current balances and every transaction,” the attorney said. “Don’t empty the joint accounts or hide property. Future income from your design work can go into an account in your name.”

“Can I take Lucy to my sister’s?”

“You can stay with family, but that doesn’t decide custody. Don’t block necessary communication about your daughter. For now, make sure she’s safe, keep records and let Ryan know future discussions should go through counsel.”

The advice did not make leaving easy.

It made it real.

I photographed the balances in every shared account and downloaded the past two years of statements. I backed up Ryan’s messages a second time, then opened a checking account for my future freelance income.

My sister arrived before noon.

When I told her about the $47,820, she covered her mouth. When I showed her Ryan’s promise that they would become a real family, she stopped asking whether I was certain.

Her apartment had one spare room barely large enough for a twin bed and an air mattress.

It was not a new life.

It was somewhere to begin.

I packed two suitcases.

For myself, I took clothes, medication, my laptop and the files I needed for work. For Lucy, I packed school clothes, pajamas, her inhaler, favorite books and the stuffed rabbit she had slept with since she was two.

Everything else stayed.

I did not touch Ryan’s belongings. I did not remove money from our shared savings. I photographed the rooms and the larger items before closing each door.

Then I disabled location sharing on my phone.

I called Lucy’s school and added my sister as an approved pickup person. I left Ryan listed as her father and emergency contact.

At three, I collected Lucy from school.

She noticed the suitcases as soon as we entered the house.

“Are we going somewhere?”

“We’re staying with Aunt Megan for a while.”

“Is Daddy coming?”

“No. Not tonight.”

Her fingers tightened around her backpack. “Did I make him mad because of the cake?”

I knelt in front of her.

“This is not because of the cake, and none of it is your fault. You don’t have to choose between Mommy and Daddy. The adults will handle the adult problems.”

“Can Rabbit come?”

“Of course.”

She went upstairs and returned with the stuffed rabbit, her star pajamas and the astronomy book Ryan had given her two Christmases earlier.

She held the book against her chest.

I did not ask her to leave it.

On the dining table, I placed my key, the attorney’s contact information and one page listing the transfers made for Claire and Noah.

Last came Lucy’s family drawing.

I had found it beneath her pillow that morning. I photographed both sides before placing the original beside the bank summary.

The figure marked DADDY was almost gone.

Under the drawing, I left one sentence.

Lucy no longer has to share you. Neither do I.

At the front door, Lucy looked back toward the stairs.

“Do we have to wait for Daddy?”

My throat tightened.

“No, sweetheart.”

I turned off the kitchen light and closed the door behind us.

Megan’s spare room smelled faintly of laundry detergent. Our suitcases took up most of the floor, and when I unfolded the air mattress, it pressed against the twin bed.

I still had legal bills ahead of me. My design income changed from month to month. I did not know where Lucy and I would live when this temporary room was no longer available.

For several minutes, fear pressed against every reason I had left.

Then Lucy crawled onto the air mattress beside me.

“Can we look at stars from here?”

I opened the blinds. Only three were visible above the neighboring building.

“We can start with those.”

She fell asleep before eight, her rabbit beneath one arm and the astronomy book near her pillow.

At 8:17, my phone lit up.

Ryan: Why is your key on the table?

Before I could lock the screen, another message appeared.

Ryan: Emma, where is Lucy?

His name flashed across the screen as he began to call.

I looked toward the air mattress.

For eight years, Lucy and I had waited for Ryan to come home.

Tonight, he was finally there.

And we weren’t.