"Your ex-husband called me himself." Gina raised an eyebrow. "Said you've been down lately, needed company, askedif I could come for dinner. Even sent a car. Natalie, you know how weird that is? Richard actually said 'please' to me."
I froze.
He'd invited Gina? Was this Richard's version of thoughtful?
"Stop spacing out," Gina grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the dining room. "I'm starving. And I brought contraband—chips, chocolate, those gummy candies you used to love." My nutritionist would probably resign if she knew.
We sat down. Gina plopped herself in Richard's usual seat and started unpacking her bag of forbidden treats. Candlelight caught her bold red hair, and suddenly the dining room didn't feel so empty.
"So," she tore open a bag of chips and tossed one in her mouth, talking around it, "how's it going? That look on your face—you suffocating yet?"
I didn't deny it. "I feel imprisoned." I sighed. "But Richard's been arranging everything so perfectly lately, I don't know how to deal with him."
Gina stopped chewing and looked at me, her tone turning serious. "Do you still love him?"
The question left me blank.
"I don't know." I was being honest. "I hate how he's treating me—locking me up here, making all my decisions, handling me like I'm fragile. But I have to admit, I've softened toward Richard. I can't be as cold to him as I was before. Gina, you know what? Richard's learning how to be a new dad. I think he's changing. But I can't just pretend the past never happened."
I stopped. My voice was shaking.
"Gina, I'm a mess inside."
Gina reached over and took my hand.
"Natalie, you know why I helped you get that fake miscarriage certificate?"
I blinked. "I thought it was just a favor between friends."
"It was. But more than that. Because the Richard back then didn't deserve you staying," Gina said. "A man who made you wear another woman's hand-me-down dress to a gala, who ditched you when you needed him to take another woman shopping, who treated you like decor, like a tool, like a nice piece of furniture he could take or leave—he didn't deserve to be a father. And he sure as hell didn't deserve to be your husband."
She paused, squeezing my hand.
"But this Richard? I'm not sure. When he called me, the worry in his voice—that wasn't the old Richard. He asked what you like to eat now, what you like to watch, and what you like talking about. Natalie, you're right. Richard is changing."
I opened my mouth. "You think I should forgive him?"
"Honey, you don't have to decide right now whether to forgive him or remarry him." Gina let go of my hand, broke a chocolate bar in half, and handed me a piece. "Maybe give Richard a trial period. See if he can be a good husband and a good father." She shrugged, her tone turning playful. "Besides, you can't exactly run away right now, can you?"
When Gina left, it was dark. She hugged me and whispered in my ear. "Honey, follow your heart. Whatever you decide, I'm on your side. Remember, you're not alone."
I stood in the doorway watching her car disappear down the tree-lined drive. The night air was cool. I hugged my arms instinctively.
Back in the bedroom, I sat on the couch. Gina's words echoed in my ears. Follow your heart.
But my heart was already a tangled mess.
Half of it fighting back, telling me not to turn around. The other half desperately craving, hoping Richard really would change.
Around nine, I was getting ready for bed when I passed the hallway and heard Joseph's voice downstairs. "Sir, you're back. Would you like a late snack?"
He was home? My heart jumped. I heated up some milk in the kitchen, then headed to Richard's study. The door was cracked, light spilling out. He was definitely in there.
I knocked.
"Come in."
I pushed the door open. Richard sat at his desk, jacket off, shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing strong forearms. His back was to the door, a notebook open in front of him, writing something. His laptop was on, but it clearly wasn't a financial report—the screen was too colorful.
