A year went by. Then another. Caleb went from infant to toddler, his steps becoming more confident and his words more numerous. I was rebuilding my life piece by piece: a promotion at work, new friends, and even a tentative date or two.
I only bumped into Nate once, at the supermarket. He looked aged and gaunt.
‘Monica,’ he said, lingering his gaze on Caleb. ‘He’s gotten so big.’
‘Kids do that,’ I replied.
‘I’ve been thinking…’
‘Don’t.’ I interrupted him. ‘Whatever you’re going to say, leave it alone.’
He swallowed hard. “I blew it. I know that now.”
‘Yes, you did.’ I lifted Caleb into the shopping trolley. “And the funny thing is, you didn’t just lose me. You lost yourself.”
The expression on Nate’s face crinkled. ‘Can I at least…’
“You can send a cheque for child support. It’s on time for once.” I pushed the cart past him. ‘Goodbye, Nate.’
As we pulled away, Caleb waved over my shoulder. ‘Bye-bye,’ he called cheerfully, not recognising the stranger who was his father.
I didn’t look back to see if Nate waved back. I didn’t need to. Some chapters are better left closed and some pages are better left un-turned. Because when someone shows they’re willing to trade love for convenience and use their own child as cover for their betrayal…well, the best revenge isn’t getting even. It’s moving forward without them.
As for the inheritance my grandmother left me? I put it into a trust for Caleb’s education. After all, investments should go to people with real futures, not those who treat relationships like bank accounts from which they can withdraw money at will.