20. Chapter 20
Isaac
We step out into the driveway together, her hand warm in mine.
The air feels different with her next to me, not behind me, like anything is possible. Amelie is settled in her baby carrier in my hand, her baby bag slung over my shoulder.
I slow my steps because I need to make the short walk up to the car last. I don’t know when I will next have the chance to feel Luna’s skin against mine.
It takes me back to the first time I laid eyes on her in that meeting room.
I remember watching from the back as she sat straight in her chair, her pencil moving swiftly along the pages of the notebook.
I could see the coil of her dark brown hair and the sweep of her pale, slender neck.
I knew what she looked like from her records, but seeing her in the flesh …
My skin felt so sensitive, like I was itching to feel her hand in mine.
I spent the entire session plotting myself into a situation where I got to shake her hand …
maybe hold it a little longer than I needed to.
I imagined her skin would be as soft as I thought it would be, though I had yet to see her face.
No one had ever made me feel that, and all the while, she didn’t even know I existed.
Now, there is just the sound of gravel under our feet and the soft rustle of leaves from the hedge to the left of the path.
Luna walks beside me, periodically glancing at Amelie, her bright green eyes taking everything in.
I don’t say anything to break this temporary truce, and neither does she. My heart feels full of light and hope. I am sure I have the silliest smile on my face.
We’re almost at the car when the very person I was hoping to avoid steps out of a parked vehicle.
“Isaac?”
I try to pretend I don’t see her, but of course, she intercepts us at the gate.
Chloe stands a few feet away as I pray for a car to run her over before we have to speak. Again, no luck. She has her usual wide-eyed, innocent mask on, still playing the same part.
“Hey,” she says, “I’ve been trying to reach you … You haven’t been replying.”
She ignores Luna like she isn’t there. I look down to see her angry green eyes pinned on me. I tighten my grip as she tries to pull away.
“No takebacks,” I whisper to my wife, not letting her go.
“Chloe,” I say, keeping my tone even. “Nice weather today.”
Her expression flickers with surprise.
“Oh.” There is a small pause as she shifts gears. “Right. I just—I had an emergency, you see. The sink was leaking … I was wondering if you … I mean, you know what a klutz I am, and you are so good with your hands.”
My eyes move behind me briefly. My mum is standing in the doorway, watching.
My gaze slides back to Chloe, every cell in my body anxious to get this confrontation over with, eager to get away.
“I am not much of a plumber, so I suggest you hire a professional. Hope your family’s well,” I add, hoping that shuts her up.
There’s a moment where she looks like she might say more.
I don’t give her the chance.
“We need to get going,” I say, offering a polite smile which I hope conveys the fuck off I would rather not resort to. “Amelie’s getting cranky.”
It’s the biggest lie I’ve told all week because my girl is perfectly fine, content and curious in her little basket. But it serves its purpose, drawing a clear line in the sand. Luna and Amelie are the non-negotiable centres of my universe.
I turn to Luna before Chloe recoups. Her wide green eyes search mine, something like hope and curiosity in them. I can work with that.
“Shall we go?”
She meets my eyes for a second.
A familiar feeling of being on the same page passes between us.
I watch as her eyes smile at me.
“Yes.”
She glances briefly towards Chloe.
“Have a nice day,” she says, like she is a stranger on the street.
We walk to the car. Behind us, Chloe doesn’t follow, but her eyes watch our every move.
She might as well be part of the hedge.
I open the passenger door and step aside, letting Luna get in first. Then, I close the door gently and move around to the other side. I lean in and fasten Amelie into her car seat, checking the straps without thinking.
The engine starts.
I don’t look back as we pull away.
For a while, neither of us speaks. There is just the low hum of the car and the road stretching ahead.
Then Luna’s voice breaks the silence.
“Manon must have had a hard time … when your sister died.”
I glance at her, then back to the road.
“I was five,” I say. “Sophie was ten.”
“She ran after a ball,” I continue. “Onto the road. She loved football. I don’t really remember her.”
I swallow the bitterness that comes with how our lives changed after that.
“My mum …” I exhale slowly. “I guess she coped in her own way. I think she used Chloe to fill that space in her heart. I get it now. If anything had happened to you or Amelie … I wouldn’t have coped, Luna.”
These words I buried in my heart sound strange out loud. All that fear robbed me of sleep.
“I grew up with Chloe always around.” I go back to explaining. “So, her being in the house all the time wasn’t new. It just … was the way it was.”
Silence buzzes between us.
“But everything I said in there to Mum … I meant every word.”
I don’t look at Luna when I say it. I wait for her to shoot me down. Instead, I feel her hand reach for mine. My heart feels like it could burst as I accept this precious gift. We sit like this all the way home.
And for once, the silence isn’t empty. It is full of possibilities.
***
This session feels different somehow. Like my burden is lighter.
Dr Ward notices as she looks at me over her glasses. She is dressed like I imagine a grandma would be, in pastels, with her salt and pepper hair in a neat bun.
“How was the week?” she asks.
“Better,” I say. “She doesn’t talk much.”
“And when she does?”
“We are both … careful. We talk about Amelie, about work. It’s been this way since we visited my mum. Like we took two steps forward and one step back.”
“That’s progress,” she says. “One step towards healing.”
I nod.
“I am doing what you said,” I add. “Not arguing or defending myself. But we are not talking.”
“You think a good argument will clear the air?”
“Yes, I do. I feel like she is imagining it was worse than it was.”
She watches me carefully.
“And did you say that out loud? Did you try to ask her?”
I wince. “No. Her mum is around, and everything feels … stilted? Is that the word?”
“But she is leaving next week.”
I huff a breath. “Yes. But I feel more and more like … It was just a few messages, you know. It would never have gone any further. I just sit here and take it?”
“For now? Yes.”
I lean back, frustrated.
“That doesn’t feel fair. I want her back. I want us back to the way we were.”
She nods. “It isn’t fair. But you are thinking from your perspective. What Luna is trying to work through … You cannot imagine what it is like. All these changes.”
I don’t like that, but I don’t argue.
She folds her hands loosely in her lap.
“Let’s go back,” she says. “What did Chloe give you that you weren’t getting at home?”
“I told you, it wasn’t like that.”
She waits. And I realise she’s not moving on until I answer.
“Ease,” I admit. “No pressure. No … expectations to be on the ball. No feeling of being a failure all the time.”
“And at home?”
“I was failing,” I say, remembering the sinking feeling I used to get every time I left work. “Everything I did felt wrong.”
She nods slowly, taking notes.
“So instead of facing the situation that was making you uncomfortable, you avoided it. You stayed at work.”
“I didn’t avoid it,” I snap, surprising even myself with the outburst.
She raises an eyebrow.
“I avoided it.”
Her expression changes to there it is.
“Did you ever tell Luna you felt that way?” she asks.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she was avoiding me. She wouldn’t even look me in the eye.
Most of the time, I felt like she didn’t want me near Amelie.
So, I kept my distance, let her and Mum handle her.
Because it kept the peace, you know? But that changed nothing …
Except, I just grew anxious of handling Amelie. She was so tiny.”
“So you felt you were protecting Luna … by disconnecting from her?”
I look away.
“I didn’t think of it like that. But I guess, yes. I guess, looking back, I was only protecting myself.”
“And that’s why you’re here,” she says gently. “Do you feel remorse?”
“Yes.”
“Guilt or remorse?” She clarifies.
“What’s the difference?”
“Guilt is about how you feel. Remorse is about how your actions affected her.”
I think about that.
“Remorse,” I say finally.
“Good,” she says. “Then show it.”
“I said sorry.”
“Once?”
I hesitate.
“A few times. I don’t know if she trusts my apologies.”
She shakes her head slightly.
“Rebuilding trust requires consistency, whether you feel she believes it or not. Say it enough times and mean it,” she says. “Not a single apology. Repeated acknowledgement of your mistakes. And lots of patience.”
I nod slowly.
“That doesn’t mean grovelling.” She clarifies. “It means you are holding yourself accountable for what happened.” She leans forward slightly. “Say it,” she says.
“What?”
“What you did. Without adding a ‘but’ at the end.”
I stare at her, then look down at my hands.
“I … formed an emotional connection with someone else,” I say slowly. “And I hid it.”
She nods.
“Again.”
I grit my teeth slightly and repeat it.
Every time feels like swallowing broken glass.
“Good,” she says softly. “That’s you owning what you did like an adult.
“Next step,” she continues. “Is transparency.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
“It means removing secrecy completely. Let her have access to your phone. No hidden spaces between you.”
“She already has access. Her birthday is my password. I have nothing to hide. I even asked her if she wanted to see my messages.”
“What did she say?” she asks.
“That she wasn’t ready.”
She nods. “Because she doesn’t trust you.”
I don’t respond. It seems like an endless hamster wheel, leading nowhere.
“Right now. She doesn’t trust you right now,” she says. “But if you are open, she may change her mind. Fair warning, there are no shortcuts down the road if you want to win her trust.”
I nod slowly. That … makes sense.