“Tell Claire money isn’t contact.”
Nicole said nothing.
Matthew continued:
“If she wants to know how her children are, she can ask me.”
Nicole promised.
Claire got the message.
Still did not call.
She hated herself for that.
She also hated Matthew for making the demand feel so simple.
Call.
Just call.
But Claire knew the first sound of Sophie’s voice would collapse every structure she had built around her decision.
She was not ready.
That became the sentence she used for everything.
Not ready to call.
Not ready to return.
Not ready to explain.
Not ready to choose.
Meanwhile, Matthew’s life narrowed.
Then slowly widened again.
He returned to work after eight weeks.
His boss, George Benton, called him into the office.
Matthew expected a conversation about productivity.
Instead George said:
“I can move you to hybrid estimating for six months.”
Matthew stared.
“You hate remote work.”
“I hate replacing trained estimators more.”
“I may need mornings sometimes.”
“I know.”
“Caleb has appointments.”
“I know.”
George slid a revised schedule across the desk.
“Do the work. Meet deadlines. I don’t care if you price drywall at midnight.”
Matthew almost cried in his boss’s office.
He managed not to.
Childcare became the next problem.
Caleb entered a daycare near Sophie’s preschool.
It cost more than Matthew’s first apartment had.
He sold his pickup.
The truck was paid off and worth enough to clear one credit card and cover several months of daycare.
He bought an eight-year-old minivan.
Abby laughed when she saw it.
“You used to swear you’d never drive one.”
Matthew opened the sliding door with the button.
“This thing is incredible.”
“You have surrendered.”
“I have evolved.”
That small joke was one of the first moments Matthew realized he could still laugh.
At three months, he met with attorney Helen Morris.
He had resisted.
Marriage felt different from paperwork.
Filing for divorce felt as though he were taking Claire’s temporary absence and making it permanent.
Helen listened.
“Has she contacted the children?”
“No.”
“You?”
“No.”
“Support?”
“Two thousand dollars anonymously.”
“How do you know it was her?”
“I know.”
“Address?”
“No.”
“Employment?”
“I think Nashville. Not confirmed.”
Helen folded her hands.
“What are you waiting for?”
Matthew hated the question.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want her back?”
He looked toward the window.
“I want the person I married back.”
Helen waited.
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Matthew understood.
“No.”
It was the first time he said it aloud.
He filed.
Attempts at service began.
Certified mail to Claire’s last known address.
Returned.
Contact through family.
Nicole said Claire did not consent to giving her location.
Email.
Inactive.
Social media.
Deleted.
Eventually, alternative service procedures began.
Matthew did not celebrate any of it.
He felt numb.
At five months, Sophie had her fifth birthday.
She asked for a purple bicycle.
Matthew bought one used, repainted it badly in the garage and added white streamers.
She loved it.
At cake time, she looked around.
“Did Mommy send something?”
Matthew’s heart dropped.