She had vanished because she had finally become strong enough to shield herself from me.

Part 3

The courtroom was smaller than I had imagined.

I am not sure why that mattered. Maybe I thought a room that could determine whether I was allowed to hold my son should feel larger, heavier, more dramatic. Instead, it had beige walls, harsh fluorescent lights, and a judge who looked exhausted from watching families destroy themselves.

Olivia sat across the room with Beth beside her.

For one moment, I forgot how to breathe.

She looked thinner. Pale. Still recovering. Her hair was pulled back, and dark shadows rested beneath her eyes. But she was not shattered. She carried herself with a quiet firmness I had never seen in her before.

Beside her, inside a covered carrier, was Noah.

My son.

I only saw one tiny hand curled against a blanket, and it nearly ruined me.

My attorney told me not to speak unless I was asked. Serena had wanted to attend, but I told her no. Then I ended the relationship the night before the hearing, after she admitted she had answered Olivia’s call because she was tired of “sharing” me.

The judge looked through the hospital records first.

Olivia’s emergency admission.

The unanswered attempts to reach me.

The C-section.

The discharge notes.

Then Beth testified.

 

 

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