Chapter 7 - THE FIRST VISIT
Derek’s first in-person visit with Emily happened in a supervised family center.
I hated every second leading up to it.
Not because I wanted to keep him from his daughter.
Because I had no idea which Derek would arrive.
The charming one?
The angry one?
The wounded husband?
The controlling father?
He arrived ten minutes early carrying a stuffed elephant and a bouquet of flowers.
The flowers were for me.
I refused them.
He smiled as though he had expected that.
Emily was six weeks old.
I handed her to the supervisor.
Derek watched every movement.
When he finally held his daughter, something in his face softened.
For a moment, he looked young.
Almost frightened.
He touched Emily’s cheek.
“Hey.”
My chest hurt.
Not from longing for him.
From grief.
This was the father I had wanted him to become before she was born.
I had begged him to attend appointments.
I had shown him ultrasound photographs.
I had placed his hand on my stomach when Emily kicked.
He had always been too busy.
Now there were witnesses.
Now he was attentive.
The realization made me feel guilty.
Maybe that was unfair.
Maybe seeing Emily changed him.
Maybe he truly loved her.
Then he looked across the room at me.
“You took this from me.”
The moment disappeared.
“I didn’t take anything.”
“I should have been there when she was born.”
“You could have been.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You left.”
“You gave me fifteen dollars.”
“I had a work obligation.”
“I was in labor.”
The supervisor shifted in her seat.
Derek noticed.
His expression changed instantly.
He looked down at Emily.
“I’m sorry.”
For one second, I thought he meant it.
Then he added, “I’m sorry your mother turned one bad night into a war.”
My hands curled into fists.
The supervisor intervened.
“Let’s keep the discussion focused on the baby.”
Derek smiled.
“Of course.”
For the rest of the visit, he was perfect.
He changed a diaper.
He fed Emily.
He rocked her when she cried.
He asked intelligent questions about sleeping patterns and pediatric appointments.
If someone had watched only those forty minutes, they would have thought I was insane for leaving him.
That terrified me more than anger.
Afterward, the supervisor gave Emily back to me.
Derek stood near the door.
“I can be a good father.”
“I hope you are.”
His eyes searched mine.
“Then come home.”
“No.”
The softness disappeared.
“You’d rather raise her in your sister’s guest room?”
“I’d rather raise her somewhere peaceful.”
He stepped closer.
The supervisor immediately stood.
Derek stopped.
“You’re going to regret this.”
I met his eyes.
“Maybe.”
My voice stayed steady.
“But I already regret staying as long as I did.”
In the parking lot, I strapped Emily into her car seat.
Then I sat behind the steering wheel of Rachel’s car without starting the engine.
I cried for ten minutes.
Rachel did not ask why.
She simply sat beside me.
Eventually I whispered, “He was good with her.”
“That’s good.”
“What if I’m wrong?”
“About leaving?”
I nodded.
Rachel looked at me.
“A man can love his daughter and still be a terrible husband.”
I stared through the windshield.
“And being good for forty minutes while someone is watching doesn’t erase six years.”
I wiped my face.
She was right.
The hardest part was accepting that two things could be true.
May you like
Derek might genuinely love Emily.
And I still might never be safe living with him again.
