Chapter 5

Judy hurriedly led Casper away.

"Don't show up in front of me tonight. I don't want to see you again," Morgan said.

Gabrielle nodded and headed upstairs. She and Morgan had been sleeping in separate rooms for a long time. Even when he came home, he never stayed with her.

Back in her bedroom, Gabrielle took a notebook out of the drawer and opened it. Line after line of tally marks filled the pages. Every time Morgan hurt her, she added another stroke.

She picked up a pen, ready to add one more, but her hand stopped in mid-air. Instead of writing, she ran her fingers over the pages. All those raised, bumpy tally marks were cold to the touch.

It turned out he'd broken her heart so many times over the last five years.

Gabrielle looked back on her life. Here she was, almost 30 years old. Yet aside from Casper, she had basically nothing to show for it. And now, she was actually keeping a notebook of all the times a man had hurt her.

At 17, doing something like this might've been cute. At 27, it was just plain pathetic—pathetic enough that it made her feel like a joke.

Gabrielle snapped the notebook shut and went into the study. She fed the pages in, one by one, to the shredder. Tiny paper scraps fluttered out of the chute like falling snow.

One sheet jammed. She reached out to straighten it, her nail scraping against the metal. The tip of her nail bent back from the nail bed, tearing from the flesh. The pain made her cry out.

Morgan pushed open the door. "What are you doing?"

She clutched her finger tightly, her face pale. "Nothing."

"Who said you could come in here?"

Gabrielle suddenly didn't feel like talking anymore. No matter what she said or did, all she ever got from Morgan was iciness and disgust. Even if she told him she was injured, he would probably just think that she'd gotten what she deserved.

She stood up and walked out, slamming the door shut behind her.

Morgan turned and stared at the closed door. He got the feeling that something about her had changed.

Before bed, Gabrielle went to Casper's room. Judy had already helped him wash up. He lay obediently in bed in white pajamas with little cloud prints. His features were delicate, and his lashes were long and neat. They cast faint shadows over his cheeks.

She gently stroked his hair. When she thought about losing custody of him after the divorce, a sharp ache shot through her chest.

"Mommy," Casper suddenly said.

"Yeah?"

"Why was Daddy mad at you today?"

She paused. "It was nothing. Go to sleep."

She leaned over to tuck the covers around him, but he suddenly wrapped his arms around her. He whispered, "Mommy, you have to be good from now on, okay? Don't make Daddy mad anymore. When he gets mad, he yells at you. When you're unhappy, I'm unhappy, too."

Gabrielle froze, a bittersweet warmth spreading through her heart. She bent down and kissed his forehead. "Okay."

…

The following day, Gabrielle dropped Casper off at preschool first, then drove to Locke Tech.

Back in college, she'd been known as a genius in her major. Even though she'd never actually worked before, she picked things up quickly once she got familiar with them.

It helped that she hadn't stopped studying over the past five years. She'd kept up with the latest developments in her field the whole time.

The days flew by, and a week passed just like that.

On Friday, Gabrielle left work early, picked up Casper from preschool, and took him back to her mother's place. They lived in a neighborhood on the far west side of the city, in an old two-story red-brick house.

It was old, but everything was neat and well-kept. The balcony overflowed with flowers in every color, bright enough to catch the eye from down the street.

In the small front yard, a crabapple tree spread fresh green leaves around clusters of rosy blossoms, the whole scene fresh and beautiful.

Gabrielle led Casper into the house, the smell of honey-glazed ribs drifting out from the kitchen.

Her mother, Helena Jamison, came out of her room.

"Nana," Casper greeted obediently.

"Oh, sweetheart!" Helena's face lit up. She pulled him into her arms, kissed his cheek, and ruffled his hair. She couldn't get enough of him.

"Come in, come in. Your grandmother started cooking the moment she heard you were coming. She's making all your favorites," Helena said happily.

Gabrielle took Casper to wash his hands at the sink in the yard. She saw her grandmother, Susan Rook, bustling around in the kitchen.

Her parents had divorced when she was ten. Helena brought her back to her grandparents' place, and from then on, the three of them got by together.

Five years ago, Gabrielle had gotten pregnant with Morgan's child. It was the first time she'd ever faced something like that, and she'd been at a total loss for what to do.

Right then, Susan was suddenly rushed to the hospital with a serious illness. With hospital bills piling up every day, Gabrielle had sought out the Quiltons on her own without discussing it with Helena.

They'd done a blood test, confirmed Morgan had fathered the baby, and then asked her what she planned to do. She'd told them she needed money.

The Quiltons had wired her 500,000 dollars in one go, and she'd used that money to save Susan's life. Not long after, the Quiltons had reached out to her and told her to marry Morgan.

To Gabrielle, it had felt like winning the lottery. She'd been full of hope for the future and full of love for Morgan. She'd practically skipped over to the county clerk's office to sign the papers.

She'd thought a happy, picture-perfect marriage awaited her, but reality had slapped her hard in the face.

Looking back now, every gift the heavens had given her had hidden price tags on them. Her current misery was just the bill coming due for her younger self.

So, honestly, Gabrielle didn't resent Morgan. In her mind, she'd earned whatever treatment he gave her.

She led Casper into the house. He whispered, "Mommy, when are we going home?"

She frowned. "We just got here, and you're already thinking about leaving?"

He fell silent.

When dinner was ready, Susan called them over to the dining table with a big smile. A steaming plate of honey-glazed ribs sat in the middle, and all the other dishes were Gabrielle's and Casper's favorites.

It had been a long time since Helena had seen Casper. She kept piling food onto his plate while asking about life at preschool.

By nature, Casper was reserved. His answers came one at a time, short and sparse.

"Have you signed up for any classes yet? The little girl next door has already started dance lessons," Helena said.

Casper frowned, clearly not wanting to answer.

"Not yet." Gabrielle quickly jumped in. "We want him to just enjoy his childhood to the fullest for a few more years. He really likes drawing, though. His teachers say he's very talented."

She vaguely remembered that her father had been an artist. Before the divorce, their tiny apartment had been crammed with his canvases and paints, the whole place a chaotic mess.

He'd been one of those frustrated, unrecognized types—he'd stayed home all day painting canvas after canvas, rarely selling any of them.

Helena had been the sole breadwinner, paying all the bills and buying his expensive supplies. The pressure was huge, and they argued almost every day.

In hindsight, the divorce had probably been inevitable.

The night before the split, Gabrielle remembered listening outside the door as Helena shouted that her father had been seduced by some rich woman and was running off to live the high life.

Helena was not the polished, graceful type. She'd yelled and sobbed like a resentful housewife at the end of her rope. Gabrielle's father, proud and aloof, couldn't win an argument against her. In the end, he'd snapped and slapped her, and the two of them had started fighting.

Helena had locked the door, so Gabrielle couldn't get in. She'd listened as things broke and crashed, her back pressed to the door as she stared up at the thin white sliver of the moon above the roof.

It was so pale that it looked like a wound in the sky.

The following day, Helena had gone to the courthouse to finalize the divorce, her face bruised and swollen.

As a child, Gabrielle hadn't understood why Helena couldn't just let go of a man like her father. It wasn't until she met Morgan that she finally got it—every woman had her own cross to bear.

At first, she'd hated her father for leaving. But the hatred faded quickly, because even before the divorce, he'd never loved her much. No matter how hard she studied or how hard she tried to be perfect, he was always aloof and distant.

She'd never once seen fatherly love in his eyes.

"Is that so?" Helena looked genuinely surprised.

"I remember Gabby used to take art classes as a kid," Susan said.

"Too bad I never amounted to much," Gabrielle said, ruffling Casper's hair. "Looks like Casp's got more talent than I ever did. Must've skipped a generation."

Helena's smile froze. She set her cutlery down and exchanged a look with Susan. In the end, neither of them said a word.