Chapter 7 - The Night at the Hospital
The drive to Northwestern took forty-two minutes through sleet and late-evening traffic. Ethan knew because he watched every minute change on the dashboard and forced himself not to call Hannah repeatedly. Rachel had once told him that panic often disguised itself as action. Tonight, the most useful thing he could do was arrive.
Hannah’s sister, Claire, met him outside labor and delivery.
“She’s stable,” Claire said before he could ask. “The baby has a heartbeat. They think it may be cervical irritation, but they’re monitoring her.”
Ethan leaned against the wall.
“Can I see her?”
“She asked for you.”
Those three words nearly undid him.
Hannah was lying on her side when he entered. A monitor traced the baby’s heartbeat in steady rhythm.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
He sat in the chair beside the bed, not on it.
“Are you in pain?”
“Not much.”
“What did the doctor say?”
“That they want to watch me for a few hours.”
He nodded.
The silence was not comfortable, but it was not hostile.
After a while Hannah said, “I almost didn’t call you.”
Ethan looked at her.
“Why did you?”
“Because you’re his father.”
The answer was not romantic, but it was intimate in a way he understood now.
“Thank you.”
She studied him.
“I expected you to take over.”
“I wanted to.”
“I know.”
“I’m trying not to.”
The corner of her mouth moved.
“That might be the most honest thing you’ve said all month.”
They sat with the monitor between them.
Around midnight, the doctor returned. The bleeding had stopped. There were no signs of active labor. Hannah would need rest, hydration, and reduced stress.
Reduced stress.
Ethan nearly laughed at the impossibility.
He waited until the doctor left.
“I can have staff move anything you need to your sister’s house.”
Hannah shook her head.
“I want to go home.”
He froze.
“To Lake Forest?”
“Yes.”
“With me there?”
“For now.”
He did not let hope outrun the sentence.
“What do you need?”
“Separate bedrooms.”
“Done.”
“No Vanessa. No Margaret unless I invite her.”
“Done.”
“Household staff report to both of us.”
“Done.”
“And no pretending this means the separation is over.”
He nodded.
“It doesn’t.”
Hannah looked relieved.
That hurt, but he understood.
The next morning, Noah arrived with Claire and launched himself toward Hannah before a nurse stopped him from climbing onto the bed.
“You’re okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“The baby?”
“He’s okay too.”
Noah cried anyway.
Ethan stood behind him with one hand on his shoulder.
On the drive home, Noah asked whether the bleeding happened because of the videos.
“No,” Hannah said.
“Because of Grandma?”
“No.”
“Because of Dad?”
Ethan looked at Hannah.
She answered carefully. “Bodies do things for lots of reasons. Stress can matter, but this is not one person’s fault.”
Noah nodded, unconvinced.
Ethan added, “And you never have to figure out who to blame when someone is sick. You just help.”
That seemed to satisfy him.
Returning to the house felt strange for all of them. Hannah went directly to the downstairs guest suite because climbing stairs tired her. Ethan had the room prepared but did not enter until she invited him.
For three days, they lived in parallel. He took Noah to school, worked from home, and joined Hannah for meals when she wanted company. He did not ask whether she planned to stay beyond the doctor’s recommended rest period.
On the fourth evening, Margaret’s letter arrived for Noah.
Hannah read it first with Ethan beside her.
Dear Noah, I am sorry I made you feel that your mother could be taken away or that you had to protect her from adults. I was wrong to talk about her health and your family as if decisions had already been made. I love you. I will wait until your parents decide when I may see you.
No excuses.
No request for forgiveness.
Hannah handed it to Noah.
He read it twice.
“Do I have to answer?”
“No,” Ethan said.
“Can I?”
“Yes.”
Noah took the letter upstairs.
Hannah watched him go.
“She did better than I expected.”
“So did I.”
Hannah glanced at Ethan.
“What?”
“I expected her to defend herself.”
“So did I.”
The next development came from Vanessa’s attorney. Forensic review showed that Vanessa had indeed photographed portions of Ethan’s phone screen on several occasions. She had not hacked his device. She had simply taken advantage of trust and access. Among the images were messages Hannah had sent during anxious nights, arguments about travel, and one private note about feeling afraid Ethan might prefer life without her.
Vanessa had forwarded selected screenshots to Margaret.
Ethan read the report at his desk.
Then he closed the file and walked to Hannah’s room.
She was reading.
“Can I come in?”
“Yes.”
He sat in the armchair.
“They confirmed she copied messages from my phone.”
Hannah’s face went still.
“I’m sorry.”
“She had my words.”
“Yes.”
“Things I wrote to you.”
“Yes.”
“And you left your phone where she could read them.”
“I did.”
Hannah stared toward the window.
“I feel stupid.”
“You’re not.”
“I kept wondering how she knew exactly what to say.”
Ethan’s hands tightened.
“I’m going to support whatever legal action you want to take.”
“I don’t know if I want to sue her.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want her to admit it.”
He nodded.
“That might be harder.”
“I know.”
Ethan hesitated.
“There’s something else.”
Hannah waited.
“I read the screenshots she took.”
Her face changed.
“Why?”
“They were in the report.”
“You could have stopped.”
“Yes.”
She looked away.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have.”
One of the messages had been from Hannah during his London trip: I don’t need you to fix me. I need you to believe that I know when someone is hurting me.
He had answered: We’ll talk when I’m back. Please don’t spiral tonight.
Now he knew Vanessa had read both.
“She used my worst answer to you as a weapon,” he said.
Hannah’s eyes filled.
“It was already a weapon when you sent it.”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
No defense.
That night Ethan slept badly.
At two in the morning he went downstairs for water and found Hannah in the kitchen.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“No.”
He poured a glass.
She looked at him.
“Do you still think I’m jealous?”
“No.”
“Did you ever?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He thought about the question for a long time.
“Because if you were jealous, I didn’t have to ask whether Vanessa was crossing boundaries. I could make your reaction the problem instead of making a decision about her.”
Hannah stared at him.
“That’s the first answer that actually makes sense.”
“It’s ugly.”
“Yes.”
He accepted that.
She rested both hands on the counter.
“I don’t know if I can forgive you.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know if I want to.”
“I know.”
“And I hate that you’re being better now because part of me wants that to be enough.”
Ethan looked at her.
“I don’t want it to be enough.”
She frowned.
“I want it to be real even if you leave.”
Hannah’s face crumpled slightly.
For the first time since the dinner, she cried in front of him without apologizing for it.
May you like
Ethan did not move toward her until she held out her hand.
Then he crossed the kitchen and took it.
