Chapter 3: The Price of Forgiveness

The moment the hospital room door swung open, all eyes turned to me.

When she saw me, Pilar struggled to sit up, clutching the baby to her chest.

“Fernanda, I know you hate me.”

“If you want me to die, if you want me and the baby to disappear, I understand.”

“I did you wrong. You treated me like a sister, and I did this to you.”

I stood in the doorway, my eyes fixed on the wrinkled infant in her arms.

When I first met Pilar, I was working at a corner deli, smelling of grease and stale bread.

She was wearing a pristine little dress, staring at the sandwich in my hand.

I offered her the half I hadn’t touched.

Her eyes lit up. She tugged on her father’s sleeve and pointed at me.

“Daddy, Mommy, I want her to go to school with me.”

She was the one who pulled me out of that neighborhood, out of a life with no future.

Her family had funded my education, helped me get into Columbia, and even found respectable jobs for my parents at their company.

And so I stood there, unable to even hate her completely.

Diana sighed.

“Fernanda, just acknowledge the child, and we’ll stop pushing you to have one of your own.”

“You can keep focusing on your career. It will be easier for everyone.”

I looked at Reed.

He was staring at Pilar, his eyes full of concern.

Suddenly, I spoke.

“After we got married, when was the first time?”

“I want the truth.”

The room went dead silent.

After a few seconds, Reed said, “Our wedding day. We were looking for a thrill, so in the hotel dressing room—”

“Stop it!”

“Don’t upset Fernanda anymore!”

Pilar raised her hand and slapped Reed across the face.

Reed froze.

Pilar turned to me, crying so hard she could barely speak.

“Fernanda, it’s all my fault. If you can’t forgive me, I can’t live with myself.”

She snatched the fruit knife from the bedside table and dragged it toward her wrist.

Reed lunged to stop her. The blade sliced into his palm, and blood welled up instantly.

I looked at his bleeding hand and laughed.

“Is this what you meant, Reed, when you said you don’t love her?”

Reed scowled.

“Was I supposed to just watch the mother of my child kill herself in front of me?”

“The child is the child. She is she. There’s no love between us, and I never planned on divorcing you.”

I pulled at the corner of my mouth.

“Fine. I forgive you.”

I returned to our apartment on the Upper East Side and took down the massive wedding portrait from the living room wall.

The honeymoon albums, the letters he’d written me when we were dating, the gifts he’d given me over the years—I piled it all in the center of the room.

Our eight-year marriage, it turned out, was worth thirty-five dollars and seventy-two cents to the recycling company.

As compensation, perhaps, Reed transferred the bulk of his assets into my name.

Then, without so much as a discussion, he brought Pilar and the baby home.

“The doctor said Pilar is recovering well enough to be at home.”

“I figured it would be most convenient for her to stay here.”

“The baby will be calling you godmother. It’s better if you get to know each other early.”

Pilar put on an ingratiating smile. “Fernanda, if you don’t want this, I’ll leave right now. I don’t want to make things difficult.”

My gaze swept over the baby’s face. “Stay,” I said calmly. “I have no objection.”

Pilar’s eyes lit up. She reached for my arm, just like she used to.

“Fernanda, I knew you were the best.”

I pulled my hand back before she could touch me, my expression unchanged.

Her hand froze in midair, her face flushing with embarrassment.

Reed led her upstairs.

“Fernanda, there are no spare rooms, so they’ll stay in the nursery.”

I had designed that room myself, for my own child.

And now, someone else’s child would sleep there.

Through it all, Reed’s eyes never once strayed to the empty space on the living room wall.

He didn’t notice that our wedding portrait, and every other trace of us, was gone.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

I would be leaving this place soon.

And I would never come back.