Chapter 4: The Signing of the Soul
An hour later, the hallway of the fourth floor became a stage for a legal drama I never asked to star in. Derek’s lawyer arrived—a man in a sharp suit who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. He carried a briefcase full of papers that essentially erased Derek’s existence from the lives of Lila and Liam.
Derek showed up ten minutes later. He didn’t go into Sylvia’s room. He didn’t look through the nursery glass. He stood by the nurse’s station, leaned over, and signed the guardianship papers with the same indifference he might use to sign a credit card receipt.
He looked up and saw me standing with Josh. Josh was holding both babies now, his arms straining with the weight, his face set in a mask of pure contempt for the man who sired him.
Derek shrugged. He didn’t offer an apology. He didn’t offer money.
“They’re not my burden anymore,” he said.
He turned on his heel and walked toward the elevators. He didn’t look back. Not once.
I watched him go, and I felt something in me break. It wasn’t my heart—that had been broken long ago. It was my belief in the order of things. I realized that “motherhood” and “family” weren’t biological certainties. They were choices. And my sixteen-year-old son was making a choice that a grown man was too small to contemplate.
Josh looked at me, his eyes wet. “We’re taking them home, aren’t we, Mom?”
I looked at the babies. Lila had opened her eyes for the first time—a deep, startling blue. Liam was making a tiny, bird-like chirping sound. They were innocent. They were spectacular. And they were ours.
“Yes, Josh,” I said, reaching out to take Lila from him. “We’re taking them home.”
