Chapter 1: The Birthday Picture
“Dad, I think Vanessa has been lying to you about why she doesn’t want me in our family.””
I read the sentence twice.
Then a third time.
The paper trembled between my fingers.
Maya’s handwriting usually had the careless confidence of an eleven-year-old—big letters, uneven spacing, little stars over the lowercase i’s. But this note looked different. Every word seemed pressed into the paper as if she had been afraid the ink itself might betray her.
I looked toward the office door.
Closed.
Upstairs, I could hear the faint sound of the shower running.
Vanessa.
My wife.
The woman I had trusted for eleven years.
I lowered my eyes to the page.
Dad, please don't be mad at me.
My throat tightened.
I know you love Vanessa. I know she is your wife. I know she takes care of this house and makes everything look nice.
Then:
But she doesn't like me.
I stopped breathing for a moment.
The words were so simple.
That made them worse.
I thought about the birthday party downstairs. The balloons. The cake. The photographs.
Vanessa asking Maya to leave the picture.
Just for one picture, honey.
I had thought it was cruel.
Now I wondered if it had been something more.
I continued reading.
She tells me things when you're not there.
My chair scraped backward as I stood.
“What things?”” I whispered.
The shower upstairs stopped.
I froze.
For several seconds, the entire house seemed to hold its breath.
Then I heard footsteps.
Slow.
Coming down the stairs.
I folded the note and shoved it into the inside pocket of my shirt just as the office door opened.
Vanessa stood there wearing a white robe, her wet hair wrapped in a towel.
She smiled.
“Why are you still awake?””
I forced myself to sit.
“Couldn't sleep.””
She walked in without asking.
Her perfume mixed with the faint smell of vanilla frosting still lingering through the house.
“I'm exhausted,” she said.
“That party was chaos.””
I watched her.
She picked up a photograph from my desk.
One of the pictures taken earlier.
The photographer had sent us a preview.
It showed the three of us.
Me in the middle.
Maya on one side.
Vanessa on the other.
But Vanessa wasn't looking at the camera.
She was looking at Maya.
And now that I knew what I was looking for, I saw it.
There was no warmth in her eyes.
Vanessa put the photograph down.
“You should order the prints tomorrow.””
“Sure.””
She turned toward the door.
Then stopped.
“You're not going to ask me about earlier?””
My pulse jumped.
“What about earlier?””
She slowly looked back at me.
“The picture.””
I shrugged.
“Maya was upset.””
“She'll get over it.””
I stared at her.
Vanessa sighed.
“Marcus, don't start.””
“Start what?””
“This.””
She waved between us.
“You've been acting strange ever since dinner.””
I leaned back in my chair.
“I'm just tired.””
Her expression softened.
For half a second, she looked like the woman I had married.
Then she smiled.
“Good. Because I don't want us fighting over something so stupid.””
“Neither do I.””
She walked toward me and kissed my forehead.
“Goodnight.””
I waited until her footsteps disappeared upstairs.
Only then did I pull Maya's note from my pocket.
There was more on the back.
I hadn't seen it before.
Three words were written there.
Ask about Mom.
My blood went cold.
Maya's biological mother had died when Maya was barely two.
That was the story I had always known.
That was the story Vanessa had always told me.
But as I stared at those three words, another memory surfaced.
A memory I hadn't thought about in years.
The night Vanessa first met Maya.
The first thing she had asked me wasn't my name.
It wasn't how old Maya was.
It wasn't whether I was ready to date again.
She had looked directly at my little girl and asked:
“Does she remember her mother?””
At the time, I had thought it was an odd question.
Now I wondered why she had needed to know.
My phone suddenly buzzed.
I looked down.
A message from an unknown number.
*You finally read her note. Good. Now check the locked drawer in your bedroom.*
I stared at the screen.
May you like
Then another message appeared.
*And Marcus? Don't let Vanessa see you looking for it.*
