Clare came by before work.
Madison’s mother folded laundry and hummed old country songs.
Her father assembled a changing table and pretended he was not stopping every few minutes just to stare at Noah.
Rebecca checked in once a week.
Ethan contested the separation at first.
Then the disclosures began.
Then the timeline became harder for him to soften.
He had left on the due date.
He had told her to call an Uber.
He had sent a hotel text while she was in labor.
He had let his mother treat access to Madison’s body and baby as a family privilege.
The facts did not shout.
They simply stood there.
Six weeks after Noah was born, Madison and Ethan sat across from each other in mediation, with two attorneys and a mediator between them.
Ethan looked older.
His beard was uneven, and the dark circles under his eyes made him seem less polished than Madison remembered.
