A story where I was disposable.
Then Nathan called.
The first time in three months.
I almost ignored it.
Almost.
But something told me to answer.
“Claire.”
His voice sounded different.
Not confident.
Not arrogant.
Tired.
“What do you want?”
A pause.
“I want to see Elodie.”
I looked at my daughter sleeping.
“You signed papers saying you wanted distance.”
“I was angry.”
“No.”
My voice surprised even me.
“You were certain.”
Silence.
Then he said:
“Camille and I are getting married next month.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
That was why he called.
“I wanted you to know before the announcement.”
“Congratulations.”
The word came out colder than I expected.
Another pause.
Then Nathan lowered his voice.
“There are things you don’t understand.”
I almost laughed.
“Like what?”
“Like why I made those choices.”
I looked at the divorce papers still stored in my desk.
The ones he gave me beside our newborn daughter.
“I understand perfectly.”
“No, Claire.”
His voice became urgent.
“You don’t.”
Something in his tone made me listen.
“Camille lied to me.”
I froze.
“What?”
“I found out recently.”
“About the baby?”
Silence.
That was my answer.
Nathan continued.
“She knew about my procedure.”
My heart started beating faster.
“She knew?”
“Yes.”
“Then why?”
“I don’t know.”
For the first time, he sounded afraid.
“I think someone wanted me to leave you.”
I stood still.
“Someone?”
“Yes.”
A long pause.
Then he whispered:
“And I think they used Camille to do it.”
The wedding invitation arrived five days later.
I almost threw it away.
Almost.
Until I noticed something unusual.
Inside the envelope was another smaller envelope.
No name.
No return address.
