My hands went cold, but the fear did not swallow me the way it once had. Maybe because he was no longer standing in front of me. Maybe because the judge’s order lay on Nora’s coffee table. Maybe because for once, there were witnesses to the shape of his words.
Nora picked up the court papers. “You only respond about Noah. Nothing else.”
I typed carefully.
Lily Reed: Noah is safe, fed, and resting. I will communicate about child-related matters through this app as ordered by the court.
I showed Nora before sending.
She nodded.
I pressed send.
Evan’s reply came almost immediately.
Evan Reed: I want a photo.
My first instinct was to obey.
That frightened me more than the message.
Not because a father asking for a photo was unreasonable in ordinary circumstances. But because my body still knew Evan’s requests as commands. My thumb moved toward the camera before my mind caught up.
Nora placed her hand gently over mine.
“You don’t have to decide instantly,” she said.
So I didn’t.
I waited. I breathed. I looked at Noah and asked myself what was best for him, not what would keep Evan calm.
Then I typed.
Lily Reed: I will follow the court’s instructions regarding communication and visitation. Noah’s health and safety are stable.
No photo.
No apology.
No extra explanation.
For a while, Evan did not answer.
That silence felt like a storm cloud holding its rain.
When the next message came, it was only one sentence.
Evan Reed: This is not over.
Nora took a screenshot.
Daniel looked grim.
I looked at Noah.
“No,” I said softly. “It isn’t.”
That night, sleep came in pieces.
Noah woke every two hours, hungry and indignant, his tiny cry piercing the dark. Each time, I rose slowly, my body aching, and brought him close. The room glowed with the pale light of a nightstand lamp. Rain continued beyond the window, steady and patient.
Between feedings, I dreamed of docks.
Wood slick beneath my feet. Water black as glass. A girl’s voice calling from somewhere I couldn’t see.
In the dream, I held the red folder, but every page inside was blank.
I woke before dawn with my heart racing.
Noah slept beside me in the bassinet. The house was quiet. For once, nothing immediate demanded action.
I reached for my phone and opened the photograph of Anna again.
This time, I zoomed in.
Not on Anna’s face.
On her hand.
She was holding something partly hidden by Evan’s jacket sleeve. A small charm on a chain, caught in the sunlight.
A pearl.
I sat up too quickly, wincing.
The bracelet.
My bracelet. Vanessa’s bracelet. Anna’s bracelet?
No. Maybe not the same one. Maybe I was exhausted and seeing patterns where there were none. But the shape looked familiar enough to make my stomach turn.
I slipped from bed, careful not to wake Noah, and padded into the hallway.
