Chapter 5 - The Locked Room
Robert drove Vanessa to the obstetric triage unit himself.
Not because the marriage was repaired.
Because she was carrying their daughter.
The distinction mattered.
Vanessa sat beside him in silence.
Her floral suitcase remained at Rachel’s apartment.
At the hospital, doctors monitored her for three hours.
No immediate preeclampsia.
No emergency delivery.
But her blood pressure was high enough to require medication, reduced stress and more frequent monitoring.
“Reduced stress,” Vanessa said after the doctor left.
She laughed without humor.
“Perfect timing.”
Robert sat in the chair beside the bed.
“Why didn’t you call me after the first high reading?”
“I did.”
“No.”
“I told you my appointment didn’t go well.”
Robert remembered.
Two weeks earlier.
He had been standing beneath temporary scaffolding while three subcontractors argued about electrical plans.
Vanessa called.
She said, “The doctor isn’t thrilled with my blood pressure.”
Robert answered, “Okay, we’ll keep an eye on it.”
Then someone shouted his name.
He told her he would call later.
He forgot.
“I’m sorry.”
Vanessa stared at the monitor.
“You say that a lot lately.”
“You’re right.”
That surprised her.
He continued.
“I’ve been absent.”
“You’ve been providing.”
“I’ve been hiding at work.”
She looked at him.
He had not planned to say it.
Once spoken, it felt true.
“The house got harder,” he said. “You were anxious. Ethan was anxious. I kept thinking if I finished the hospital project before the baby came, I could come home and fix everything.”
Vanessa smiled sadly.
“You don’t fix family like drywall.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He accepted that.
After a moment, he said, “I opened Melissa’s room.”
Vanessa went still.
“Oh.”
“The baby can have it.”
She stared at him.
“You mean that?”
“Yes.”
“Why now?”
“Because Ethan asked why we were moving him when there was already an empty room.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“He said that?”
“Not exactly. But he made me understand it.”
Tears appeared.
“I asked you six times.”
“I know.”
“You acted like I was trying to erase her.”
“I know.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I know.”
She wiped her face angrily.
“That doesn’t excuse what I did.”
“No.”
“I packed his suitcase because I was furious with you.”
Robert looked at her.
“Not him?”
“No.”
“That makes it worse.”
“I know.”
Vanessa turned toward the window.
“I kept asking for a nursery. You kept saying we’d figure it out. I kept asking you to sort Melissa’s things. You wouldn’t. And every time Ethan complained about the baby, I started seeing him as another person who got to say no while I was the only one whose life had already changed.”
Robert listened.
“I am carrying her. I’m sick every morning. I can’t sleep. My body doesn’t feel like mine. I gave up the office because you said Ethan needed his room. I gave up half our closet for baby things. And Melissa still had an entire room.”
Robert flinched.
“She didn’t have it.”
“You gave it to her memory.”
That was fair.
Vanessa continued.
“So yes. I started thinking, why is Ethan’s room untouchable when I’m expected to bend around everyone else?”
“Because he’s seven.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew that yesterday.”
She looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
Robert leaned back.
“What did you actually plan?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“I called Linda.”
“My mother.”
“I asked whether Ethan could stay with her for a month after the baby came.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought you’d say no.”
“I would have.”
“I know.”
“And so you were going to make it happen first.”
“Yes.”
Robert looked at the ceiling.
“You understand why I don’t trust you right now.”
“Yes.”
“But you also don’t trust me.”
Vanessa laughed softly.
“Would you?”
That hurt because again she had a point.
He had made her beg for space while refusing to confront his grief.
But she had punished Ethan for Robert’s refusal.
Both truths could exist.
Vanessa touched her stomach.
The baby moved.
Her expression softened automatically.
Robert watched.
“Can I?”
She hesitated.
Then took his hand and placed it against the side of her belly.
A small kick pressed into his palm.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Their daughter was real.
Not an argument.
Not a nursery problem.
A child.
Just like Ethan.
Vanessa whispered, “I don’t want him gone.”
Robert looked at her.
“I wanted quiet.”
“That’s different.”
“Not to a seven-year-old whose suitcase is packed.”
“No.”
After discharge, Robert drove Vanessa back to Rachel’s.
Before she got out, she said, “Tell Ethan I’m sorry.”
“You need to tell him yourself.”
“Can I?”
“Not yet.”
Pain crossed her face.
He continued.
“I want us to talk to someone first.”
“A therapist?”
“Yes.”
“You think I’m dangerous?”
“I think all three of us are making decisions out of fear.”
“Four.”
Robert frowned.
Vanessa touched her stomach.
“Four of us.”
He nodded.
“Four.”
She opened the car door.
Then stopped.
“There’s something else.”
Robert waited.
“The idea of Ethan staying with Linda?”
“Yes?”
“It wasn’t originally mine.”
Robert felt the familiar unease return.
“Whose was it?”
May you like
Vanessa looked toward Rachel’s apartment.
“Your mother’s.”
