Chapter 13 #2
There’s something grounding about the process. It gives me a minute to pull myself together before facing her again.
I make it strong, just the way she likes it. No milk. Just a touch of sugar. When the coffee is ready, I pour it into two cups and place a small plate of buttered cookies beside them. Then I carry the tray back to the living room.
Barbara sits perfectly straight on the couch, her ankles crossed and angled slightly to the side, her purse resting neatly beside her. She looks like she’s waiting for a board meeting to begin.
“Here,” I say, setting the tray on the table between us. “Coffee. And cookies.”
She glances at the cookies but doesn’t touch them. Instead, she wraps her manicured fingers around the cup and takes a slow sip.
“Thank you,” she says, her tone polite but distant.
I nod, lowering myself onto the opposite couch. I reach for my cup, the porcelain warm against my palms, and take a slow sip, more for something to do than for the taste.
Neither of us speaks for a moment. Her cup settles against the saucer, every movement measured.
“I heard you’ve decided to move forward with the divorce,” she says. Her voice is perfectly composed, suggesting concern while carrying a layer of judgment underneath.
I meet her gaze.
“I have,” I answer simply.
She exhales through her nose, setting her cup down with a soft click.
“Cecily, don’t you think this is going too far? You’re acting impulsively, letting emotion dictate something that should never even be on the table.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, my voice calm, though I already know where this is going.
“There has never been a divorce in our family,” she continues, stressing the word our as if it’s supposed to hold any authority over me.
“Not on Richard’s side. Not on mine. Marriage isn’t something you walk away from because it becomes difficult.
It’s something you work through. You talk. You forgive. You rebuild.”
I watch her for a moment, deciding whether to laugh or simply let her finish.
“You think that’s what this is about?” I ask, my tone firm.
“Difficulty?”
Her lips tighten. “I think what happened was regrettable, yes, but still something that can be discussed. You and Colin need time. And perspective. Ending this will destroy more than just your marriage. It will destroy your family’s legacy, your children’s stability, his reputation.”
She pauses, her gaze sharpening. “Especially after that distasteful article. Now more than ever, you need to present a united front.”
“Barbara,” I interrupt, my tone cold enough to stop her mid-sentence. “This isn’t about reputation. Or family legacy. It’s about what’s left of my sanity. And my children’s peace.”
She studies me for a moment, her expression unreadable, though I catch a brief flash of disapproval in her eyes.
“You’re making a mistake,” she says finally. “People talk. They always will. But this impulsive decision is something you’ll regret once the noise fades.”
I set my cup down on the table with a soft clink that feels louder than it should in a room this quiet. I lean back slightly, clasping my hands in my lap.
“Before I became a mother, your son was the person I loved most in the whole world. More than I ever loved myself.”
My gaze drops to the coffee table. A thin line of steam rises from my abandoned cup.
“Only I know how this feels. Only I know what all of this is costing me.”
The words scrape their way out, soft but unwavering.
“I didn’t wake up the day after discovering he was cheating on me and tell him to leave. It didn’t happen overnight. It was months. Months of my instincts screaming that something was wrong, while your son looked me in the eye and lied.”
I draw a slow breath, forcing my hands to remain motionless in my lap.
“Months of my children waiting for their father to show up, while he… while he never did.”
The memory burns behind my eyelids, vivid and humiliating.
“Between almost knowing, finding the proof, and finally making my decision, nearly a month passed. A month where my mind tortured me with every possible version of staying or letting him go.”
I swallow hard.
“So don’t sit here and tell me I’m being impulsive, Barbara. Because only I know what it’s like to lie down in bed every night, missing someone, only to remember that the same person is the one who broke you.”
She has the decency to stay quiet now, while I lay myself bare like this. I take another breath before continuing, softer this time, but no less firm.
“It’s not about pride. It’s not about being stubborn. After what Colin did, I barely have a thread of dignity left.”
My voice cracks just slightly, but I don’t look away.
“Staying with him would mean condoning his actions. It would mean showing our children that what he did was just a mistake. Something small. Something easily forgiven and forgotten. Instead of the thing that tore our lives apart.”
I stop there, my throat tight. The exhaustion finally catches up.
Barbara is the first to speak again. Her tone is softer now, though firmly wrapped in the conviction she wears like armor.
“The thing about time,” she says slowly, her eyes fixed on the dark surface of her coffee, “is that it has a way of dulling things. What feels unbearable now eventually loses its weight. Its sharpness.”
She lifts her gaze to mine.
“Colin loves you, Cecily. That doesn’t just disappear.”
I take a moment before answering, choosing my words carefully.
I think about mentioning the one truth she doesn’t know yet.
The kind of truth that would shift everything in this room.
But it isn’t mine to tell. That’s for Colin to decide, whether or not he tells his parents.
And if I know him at all, he won’t say a word until he’s certain the baby is his.
“I understand that your marriage to Richard isn’t…” I hesitate, searching for the right word. “Conventional.”
Her brows lift, just slightly, but I continue before she can respond.
“But I respect it. It’s your life. Your choice. And I’m not asking you to accept mine, Barbara. I’m only asking you to respect it.”
She studies me for a long moment. Her expression is unreadable, caught somewhere between pride and discomfort, as if she’s seeing a version of me she never quite expected.
Then, slowly, she gives a small nod. No words. Just that.
It is an unspoken agreement. It isn’t approval, but acknowledgment.
I let out a breath.
“The divorce doesn’t change anything about your relationship with the kids,” I add. “You’re their grandmother. That isn’t up for debate. Whenever you or Richard want to see them, just reach out. You’ll always be welcome.”
Her expression softens for a fleeting moment. Then it’s gone.
“Well,” she says, clearing her throat. “I hope they’ll continue attending our family events.”
Of course. Because maintaining appearances must always come first.
The thought crosses my mind, but I keep it to myself.
She finishes the rest of her coffee in silence, sets the cup neatly back on the tray, and stands. There’s a brief hesitation, the faint press of her lips as if she wants to say something else, but doesn’t.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Cecily,” she says finally. “Take care.”
“You too.”
And then she’s gone.
The sound of the front door closing reverberates through the house. For a long while, I just stand there, thinking about everything and nothing all at once.
Eventually, I retreat to the sunroom, sink into the chair, and lose myself in work, letting the rest of the world blur into the background for a few hours.
I’m in the kitchen, clearing away the dishes from the snack Alicia and I just finished. Crumbs litter the counter, and the room smells of strawberries and toast. The doorbell rings just as I’m rinsing the plates.
Before I can even reach for the towel, Alicia’s voice drifts in from the living room.
“I’ll get it!”
I smile to myself as I dry my hands, listening to her quick footsteps. A few seconds later, she calls out again, her tone curious and a little unsure.
“Mom! There’s a friend of yours at the door. She says she came to surprise you.”
A friend of mine?
I frown slightly, setting the towel aside. I sigh under my breath and head toward the entryway, tightening my ponytail.
“Who is it, sweetheart?” I ask as I round the corner, bracing myself for yet another unwanted visit this week.
And then I stop.
For a second, my brain refuses to process what my eyes are seeing.
Alicia stands behind the couch, her posture hesitant, polite confusion written across her face. And in front of her, in the middle of my living room, stands the last person on earth I ever expected to see.
Maya. Colin’s mistress.
The name flashes through my mind, dragging with it memories I try every day to erase ever since I held the evidence in my hands.
For a moment, I can’t breathe. The air shifts around me, the room narrowing until all I can see is her standing there in a long-sleeved petrol blue dress, elegant and composed. The fabric skims her body, fitted enough to be intentional.
Her five-inch heels lock her posture into deliberate poise, as if she has a point to prove. Her hands are clasped in front of her, her purse resting on the coffee table, as if she has any right to be in this house.
I blink once, slowly, the sound of my pulse thundering in my ears.
“Alicia,” I say, steadying my voice. “Would you mind staying by the pool area until I call you? I promise it won’t take long.”
She looks at me, her brow creasing slightly.
“Is everything okay, Mom?” she asks, her eyes darting briefly to Maya, then back to me.
“Of course, honey.” I force a small smile. “We just need to talk in private for a few minutes. That’s all.”
“Okay…”
She hesitates, then does as I ask, pulling her jacket from the hook and heading toward the glass doors. I watch her until I hear the faint click of the latch, the backyard door closing behind her.
For a moment, I feel relieved that she didn’t recognize Maya, that I don’t have to explain this. Not yet. All I know is that whatever this woman came here to say, I don’t want Alicia anywhere near it.
I turn back to Maya and, without hesitation, say flatly, “I want you out of my house.”
She stiffens but doesn’t move.
“I’m not leaving until I’ve said what I came here to say.”
Our eyes meet, and I can’t stop the humorless laugh that slips out.
“Of course not. You really don’t have any sense of decency, do you?”
“You need to let Colin go,” she cuts in, her voice sharp with arrogance and condescension. “You’re not woman enough for him.”
My hands tighten at my sides, my nails biting into my palms. “Is that so?”
“We’re starting a new family,” she says, placing a hand over her stomach.
My gaze drops there before I can stop it.
For a moment, my mind goes blank. There are no obvious signs of pregnancy.
Her stomach is flat, giving nothing away, and I have no idea how far along she claims to be.
I wonder if it’s really Colin’s child she’s carrying.
If this will be just another one of his choices we’ll all be forced to learn how to live with.
I inhale slowly through my nose, steadying myself.
“I’d congratulate you,” I say, my voice cold, “but instead I’ll just say poor thing.”
Her jaw tightens.
“You’re just jealous,” she snaps. “You probably can’t even give him more children at your age.”
I don’t address what she said. I simply arch a brow and let the silence stretch, letting it grow uncomfortable.
“Poor child,” I murmur, the honesty in my voice clear. “Because it’s going to have a mother like you, and a father who doesn’t even care that it exists.”
“You—”
“No,” I cut her off, my tone firm enough to make her take a step back.
“Poor you, because you’re a woman without scruples or conscience.
You lied to an innocent teenage girl just to step into a house where you were never welcome.
You knew exactly what you were doing. The role you played in tearing apart the family of the same girl you just lied to. ”
I take a step closer, my voice dropping, low and controlled despite everything burning inside me.
“At the end of the day, Colin is the only one who owed me respect, fidelity, loyalty, and consideration,” I continue. “But you’re far from naive or innocent.”
“You think I want Colin?” I say, disbelief threading through my voice. “You can have him. All of him. The lies. The guilt. The sleepless nights. The version of himself he can’t live with.”
I hold her gaze.
“If that’s what you came here for, congratulations.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but I keep going.
“But let’s be honest. You didn’t come here asking for something for the sake of the child you claim is his. You came because you’re desperate. Because he doesn’t want you. Not really.”
I let my words sink in.
“And now that there’s no thrill of sneaking around, no stolen moments, no secrecy to make it exciting… what’s left?”
I tilt my head slightly, my gaze never leaving hers. “A man who barely recognizes himself. A relationship built on lies. And a woman who had to come to my door just to remind herself she won.”
For a moment, I say nothing. I simply watch her, unable to understand how people like her and Colin can be so selfish.
“So no, Maya. I don’t want Colin. But you clearly need him to want you, and that kind of need is almost pitiful. It reeks of desperation.”
Her face flushes, anger and humiliation colliding, something ugly stirring beneath the surface.
I take a slow step forward, my voice steady and cold.
“Now get out of my house.”
For a moment, she doesn’t move. Then, just as she turns toward the door, she stops. The look she gives me makes my stomach twist.
“Must run in the family,” she says, her tone suddenly light, almost mocking. “That little talent for stealing other women’s husbands.”
“I have no interest in listening to the meaningless things coming out of your mouth,” I say. “Get out of my house. And don’t come back.”
“Oh, but this you’ll want to hear.” She sneers, triumphant and venomous. “Colin practically fell into my bed without me even trying that hard. Just like your father did with my mother.”
The words hit like a slap. I blink once, barely breathing.
“What did you just say?”
“You heard me.” Her chin lifts, a cruel satisfaction curving her mouth, the calm, poisonous pride of someone who’s been waiting for this very moment. “Your daddy and my mom were together. For almost a year. The perfect, happy couple.”
Everything inside me goes still. My mind refuses to accept it. He would never do that. Never.