Chapter 2

That night, Mike didn't come home.

The only thing he left me was a text. "Get some sleep. Stop throwing a tantrum."

The next morning, four movers showed up at my door.

Rita led Suzanne and the movers inside, pointing toward the end of the hallway. "Move the crib in there and take the cabinet out."

That room was the nursery I'd prepared for my baby. After I lost the child, I'd locked the door and kept it shut for six years.

Mike had promised that no one would ever touch anything inside.

I blocked the doorway, pressing my palm firmly against the doorknob. "Get out! Who gave you permission to move in?"

Rita planted her hands on her hips. "Mike, of course! Ian is his son. Is he supposed to spend the rest of his life somewhere out there instead of living in his father's house?"

Holding Ian in her arms, Suzanne said in a soft voice, "I'll only be staying for three months. Mike said you could keep the master bedroom. The baby and I will take this room."

Rita signaled for the movers to start carrying things inside.

She continued scolding me as they worked. "You get to keep your position as Mrs. Harris. The least you can do is not shut your husband's child out of his own father's home."

I stared at the door that had been locked for six years. My feet felt rooted to the floor. I didn't budge an inch.

That was my child's room. I couldn't let anyone else have it.

When I refused to move, Rita called Mike right in front of me. Then, she pulled out the spare key he'd given her and unlocked the door.

They shoved me aside.

The movers roughly hauled out the little crib, knocking over a wooden box on top of the cabinet in the process. A faded four-dimensional ultrasound photo slipped out.

My heart clenched as I reached down to pick it up. A shard of broken glass pierced my fingertip, and blood immediately surged from the wound. I didn't care about the pain. All I wanted was to pull the photo free of the broken glass.

Annoyed that I was in the way, Rita kicked the photo aside.

She spoke as if the sight of it disgusted her. "I should've thrown that thing away ages ago. Why should an unborn child take up an entire room when a living child needs somewhere to stay?"

Ignoring the blood on my hand, I dropped to my knees and retrieved the photo. I clutched it tightly against my chest.

Six years ago, Mike had placed it in my palm himself, promising that no one would ever take our child's place. Now, the photo lay among the broken glass at my feet, and the room he'd promised to protect was about to be given to someone else's child.

I hugged the photo to my chest and screamed, completely breaking down. "Get out! All of you, get out!"

Suzanne stepped forward and sighed. "Nadia, Ian and your baby are brothers, after all. If you can't bear to part with the photo, I could put it in Ian's baby book."

I jerked my head up and glared at her. "Don't touch his things. And don't call him Ian's brother ever again. Who do you think you are?"

Suzanne's eyes immediately reddened.

Rita raised her hand to slap me, but Mike's voice suddenly came from the doorway. "Mom, stop!"

He rushed over and held my bleeding hand in his. "What happened?"

Before I could answer, he carefully removed the broken glass from my palm and grabbed some tissues to press against the wound. Then, he went to get the first-aid kit.

"I'm sorry, Nadia. I didn't know they were moving in today."

The warmth of his fingertips made me reluctant to let go. I caught his sleeve, giving him one last chance to earn my trust, just as I had six years ago.

"Mike, please make them leave. Will you do that for me?"

His hands that were bandaging my wound stopped moving. In the living room, the noise of the movers had woken Ian, and he began to cry.

Mike pressed his lips together and avoided my gaze. "Nadia, they're only staying for three months. The room's just sitting empty anyway. Maybe if Ian moves in, you'll slowly learn to let go."

I responded, "No, Mike. You can give them anything else, but not this room."

He remained silent for a long time.

Then, he turned to Rita and said, "Don't touch anything that belongs to Nadia's baby in that room for now. Move everything else according to the original plan."

He'd bandaged my wound, but he hadn't kept his promise to hold on to that room.

I released his sleeve and stopped begging him.

At that moment, I realized that only I could protect the things that mattered to me.