Chapter 5 - THE CHILDREN KNEW MORE THAN THEY SHOULD
Three days later, I returned to the elementary school.
Walking through the front entrance felt strange.
For four years, it had been one of the most familiar places in my life.
I knew where the office kept spare tissues.
I knew which hallway smelled like crayons.
I knew the secretary's favorite coffee order.
But after Nicole's public outburst, I felt like an intruder.
Mrs. Alvarez, the school secretary, looked up when I entered.
Her expression softened.
“Micah.”
“Hi.”
She came around the desk.
“Are you doing okay?”
I nodded automatically.
Then stopped.
“Not really.”
She touched my arm.
“I'm sorry about what happened.”
I looked toward the empty hallway.
“I wanted to ask about the day you called me. I know you can't share everything, but I need to understand whether the children were safe.”
“They were safe,” she assured me. “They stayed with us in the office the entire time.”
“Was Daniel able to collect them?”
“Yes. Once we had the correct number, he came right away.”
Relief filled my chest.
Mrs. Alvarez lowered her voice.
“Micah, I know you're involved in some family difficulties. The school can't take sides, but we want those children protected from adult disagreements.”
“I understand.”
She hesitated.
“Emma asked about you.”
My throat tightened.
“What did she say?”
“She wanted to know whether you were still allowed to love her.”
I looked away before the secretary could see my eyes fill with tears.
Allowed to love her.
Those words stayed with me.
I had spent eleven days wondering whether Emma and Tyler believed I'd abandoned them.
Now I realized they were wondering something even worse.
Whether love could be taken away by an angry adult.
Daniel had already requested copies of the relevant school communication records through appropriate channels. Mrs. Alvarez explained that any records or security footage connected to the dispute would have to be handled through school administration and the legal process.
I thanked her.
Before leaving, I glanced toward the classroom hallway.
A little boy ran past carrying a handmade paper pumpkin.
For a moment, I saw Tyler at four years old, racing toward me with untied shoelaces and a smile that could brighten the worst day.
I missed them so much it physically hurt.
That evening, Daniel called.
“The kids have been asking about you,” he said.
I gripped the phone.
“Are they okay?”
“Mostly. Emma's quiet. Tyler keeps asking why you don't come to school anymore.”
I swallowed.
“I don't want to put you in the middle of anything.”
“You aren't.”
He paused.
“Would you like to come over for dinner? No custody talk. Just dinner with the kids.”
I thought about Celia's warning not to let the children become part of the legal conflict.
“Only if we agree not to discuss Nicole or the case in front of them.”
“Absolutely.”
I drove to Daniel's townhouse just before six.
It was smaller than Nicole's house but warm and comfortable.
Children's artwork covered the refrigerator.
A half-finished puzzle sat on the dining table.
There were sneakers by the front door and a crooked poster of the solar system taped above the stairs.
When Daniel opened the door, Tyler appeared behind him.
He stared at me.
For one terrible second, I thought he might be afraid to approach.
Then he ran.
“AUNT MICAH!”
I knelt just in time to catch him.
His little arms wrapped around my neck.
“I thought you weren't coming back.”
I held him carefully.
“I'm here, sweetheart.”
He pulled away.
“Are you mad at us?”
My heart broke.
“Never.”
“Mommy said you didn't want to help anymore.”
I took a slow breath.
“Sometimes grown-ups disagree about responsibilities. But none of that changes how much I love you.”
He studied my face.
“Even when we're not at your house?”
“Even then.”
Emma stood several feet away.
Her purple hair tie was loose, and she held a stuffed rabbit against her chest.
I smiled.
“Hey, Em.”
She didn't smile back.
Instead, she walked over slowly.
“Can I hug you?”
I opened my arms.
She held me tightly.
Longer than Tyler had.
When she finally pulled away, her eyes were wet.
“I missed you,” she whispered.
“I missed you too.”
Daniel quietly stepped into the kitchen, giving us privacy.
For the next hour, we did ordinary things.
We ate spaghetti.
Tyler spilled parmesan cheese across the table.
Emma corrected her father's pronunciation of a word from her spelling list.
Daniel pretended to be outraged.
The children laughed.
And something inside me began to heal.
Not because everything was fixed.
But because, for one evening, nobody asked me to prove my worth by sacrificing myself.
After dinner, Emma wanted to show me her room.
There were drawings taped above her bed.
Butterflies.
Stars.
A picture of a golden retriever she desperately wanted.
Then she opened her desk drawer.
“I made something for you.”
She handed me a folded piece of purple construction paper.
On the outside, she'd written:
For Aunt Micah.
Inside was a picture of four stick figures.
Emma.
Tyler.
Daniel.
Me.
I smiled.
“This is beautiful.”
But Emma wasn't smiling.
She pointed toward the space beside the drawing.
“I wanted to draw Mommy too.”
I looked at her.
“Why didn't you?”
Her lower lip trembled.
“Because Mommy says people who love Daddy are against her.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“Emma—”
“She says you're helping him take us away.”
I wanted to tell her that wasn't true.
I wanted to explain every document, every lie, every sacrifice.
But she was eight years old.
She needed reassurance, not evidence.
“Emma, you can love your mom and your dad. And you can love me. You never have to choose which people you're allowed to care about.”
She looked down.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
She folded the drawing and placed it in my hand.
As I turned toward the doorway, she caught my sleeve.
“Aunt Micah?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Can I tell you something without you getting mad?”
I knelt beside her.
“Of course.”
She glanced toward the hallway.
“Mommy made us practice what to say.”
My stomach tightened.
“Practice what?”
Emma's eyes filled with tears.
May you like
She leaned closer.
“What we're supposed to tell the judge about you and Daddy.”
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