Chapter 10 - THE FOLDER IN HER DRAWER
The folder changed everything.
I had never given Mom permission to access our financial documents.
Neither had Anna.
Yet she had copies.
Old tax forms.
Insurance statements.
Mortgage information.
Even paperwork from Anna's obstetrician.
David told us not to assume how she obtained them.
"Document first."
"Investigate second."
So we photographed everything.
Then we checked our accounts.
There were no obvious missing funds.
But there were repeated login attempts from unfamiliar devices.
I changed every password.
I contacted the bank.
I added additional verification.
Anna sat beside me during every call.
She looked more tired with each discovery.
"I'm sorry."
I turned.
"For what?"
"She wouldn't have done this if I hadn't married you."
I stared at her.
"Don't ever say that again."
She looked surprised.
"My mother's behavior belongs to my mother."
I took her hand.
"You are not responsible for what she chose to do."
Anna nodded.
But I could tell she didn't fully believe it yet.
Neither did I.
Guilt had strange habits.
Even after you understood it intellectually, your body kept carrying it.
The next several days were quieter.
Mom's belongings were removed.
Her room became empty.
I closed the door.
Anna reopened it.
"We're not keeping a shrine to what happened."
She was right.
Together, we cleared the room.
The heavy curtains came down.
The antique chair Mom insisted nobody sit in went to storage.
The photographs she chose disappeared.
We repainted the room.
Anna selected a soft green.
Luke helped.
Rachel came too.
That surprised me.
She brought lunch.
Then apologized to Anna.
Not dramatically.
Not perfectly.
But sincerely.
"I believed Mom because believing you meant admitting something terrible about her."
Anna listened.
Rachel's eyes filled.
"And I made you pay for that."
Anna didn't immediately forgive her.
I was proud of that.
Forgiveness shouldn't be demanded just because someone finally admits the truth.
"I need time," Anna said.
Rachel nodded.
"You should take it."
That evening, we sat in the nursery.
The crib was ready.
Tiny blankets filled a basket.
The baby's name hung in wooden letters above the wall.
EMMA.
We had chosen it months ago.
For the first time since the kitchen incident, Anna smiled at the name.
"She's going to be stubborn."
"Why?"
"Look at her parents."
I laughed.
Anna leaned against me.
Then her expression changed.
"What?"
"She kicked."
I put my hand on her stomach.
Another kick.
Strong.
Alive.
Perfect.
I almost cried.
Anna covered my hand with hers.
"This is what matters now."
I nodded.
Our child.
Our home.
Our marriage.
Not my mother's approval.
Not family appearances.
Not pretending.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I ignored it.
It rang again.
Then a voicemail arrived.
I played it.
My mother's voice filled the room.
She sounded weak.
"Michael."
"Something is wrong."
"I'm at Aunt Linda's."
"I think I'm having a heart attack."
Anna immediately looked at me.
My entire body reacted before my mind did.
Stand up.
Go.
Save Mom.
May you like
Then I remembered what Luke said.
She grabs your guilt.
