Chapter 5: I Haven't Forgiven Her Yet
Kael's POV
By the time I got home, it was already 8:45 in the evening.
A cool, empty stillness greeted me at the door.
No Helen's smiling face, and none of her chatter either.
Thelma came forward and took my briefcase and suit jacket from me.
I asked while changing my shoes, "Is Mrs. Davis not home?"
"No, sir. Madam hasn't been back for four days now."
"Four days?"
I frowned, then almost immediately felt the irritation drain into something duller — was she playing another one of those games of hers, dangling herself out of reach just to draw me closer?
Back in the bedroom, I took out my phone and pulled up my conversation thread with Helen. Two hours ago I had messaged her, telling her to get ready — I would be home by nine. She hadn't replied.
Ever since the two-year plan for a second child had started, my mother had been pushing hard, and Helen had thrown herself into it just as eagerly. In the day before each of her ovulation windows, she would always reach out to me in advance. And now she had simply gone silent?
I didn't believe for a second that she would throw away the one chance she had each month. She would show up at nine. I was sure of it.
I went into the bathroom to shower. When I came out, she still wasn't back.
So she was serious this time.
My patience was wearing thin by degrees. And then Ivy called.
I picked up, and without thinking about it my tone softened. "Ivy, what's up?"
"Nothing urgent," she said. "I just wanted to check — did Miss Davis agree to come to Roxi's school event tomorrow? The parent-child activity?"
She was always like this — responsible to a fault, following up on things I had already been reminded of once, without a trace of impatience in her voice.
"Not yet," I said.
Ivy's voice shifted with concern. "Why hasn't she agreed? Does she not want to go? It's my fault — if I didn't happen to have a performance tomorrow, I wouldn't need to trouble Miss Davis at all. If she really doesn't want to go, I'll cancel the show."
That was exactly the difference between Ivy and Helen. What Ivy managed without a second thought, Helen — Roxi's own mother — couldn't seem to manage at all.
"She hasn't refused," I said. "I just haven't had the chance to tell her yet. She's Roxi's birth mother. This is her responsibility — don't cancel your performance."
"All right," Ivy said. "I'll talk to Roxi on my end. As long as Miss Davis is there, everything should be fine."
"Good. Focus on your show. Don't worry about this."
After I hung up, I opened Helen's chat again. Still nothing. I gave up waiting for a reply and called her directly — if she had staged all of this just to get me to reach out first, then fine, she'd won that round. But the phone rang for a long time without an answer. I called again. Nothing.
Whatever patience I had left for the evening was gone.
I finally sent her a message: [Roxi's kindergarten has a parent-child activity tomorrow. Nine a.m. You're going.]
Once the message showed as sent, I let it go. She couldn't ignore her phone forever. When she saw it, she'd go. I got dressed, walked out to my car, and left.
The next morning was back-to-back meetings.
Out of habit, I would usually leave my phone in the office or hand it to Silas before going into a conference room. But since Helen hadn't replied all night, I brought the phone with me, set it to vibrate, and kept it within reach on the table.
The call came in at half past nine.
My first instinct was that it was Helen. I was already reaching for it when I saw it was from Roxi's kindergarten — from her teacher, Ms. Ellis. Worried something had happened, I paused the meeting and stepped out.
"Ms. Ellis? Did something happen to Roxi?"
"Roxi's fine," she said, and I could hear the edge in her voice before she even got to the point. "But the activity started at nine, and it's nine-thirty now. Roxi is supposed to go on stage, and none of her parents are here. How is that possible?"
I frowned before I could stop myself. "Helen didn't go?"
"If she had, do you think I'd be calling you? I understand you're both busy. Maybe events like this seem small or unnecessary from where you sit — but they matter to the children. Every other parent is here today. Roxi is the only one standing there alone. Aren't you worried about how that makes her feel?"
Ms. Ellis wasn't wrong to be upset. I wasn't the kind of father who neglected his daughter, and a situation like this had never crossed my mind as a possibility. I had assumed Helen would see my message and do what needed to be done. I hadn't considered that she wouldn't.
Had she really drawn Roxi into this — used her own daughter as a pawn in whatever point she was trying to make?
That made me angry. But being angry wasn't going to help anything right now.
I asked the teacher to shift Roxi's slot to the end of the program, ended the meeting early, and drove to the kindergarten as quickly as I could. I still missed the first round of games.
Roxi was the kind of child who held herself to high standards — strong grades, a quiet fierceness about doing things right. Missing that first round had cost her in the standings, and she was subdued the entire afternoon because of it.
On the drive home, her eyes went red.
"It's Mom's fault," she said, her voice tight with the effort of not crying. "She said she'd come and then she didn't. That's why I fell behind. She's completely useless — I'm liking her less and less. If it weren't for Auntie Ivy having a performance, I never would have agreed to let her come in the first place. I'm not letting her come to anything ever again."
I let her talk. The final standings hadn't been bad, considering. I was about to say something reassuring when my mother's call came through.
"Kael, the summer banquet is tomorrow — we're heading to the estate tonight. Bring Roxi and join us when you can. No point rushing around tomorrow morning when things get hectic."
The Nightingale family owned a beautiful estate outside Windsor, well-known in the area as a summer retreat. The annual gathering had been started by my grandfather, meant to bring family and old friends together. In recent years, though, it had become my mother's production — a carefully curated occasion she used to show off what the family had made of itself. I didn't particularly enjoy it, but there was no graceful way to refuse.
I hung up and looked at my daughter, still sulking beside me. "Tomorrow is the family banquet," I said. "Your mom probably wasn't able to make it today because she's been busy getting everything ready for the food tomorrow."
Roxi thought about that seriously for a moment, and some of the storm went out of her expression — though not all of it. "Fine," she said, with the careful dignity of a five-year-old granting a pardon. "I'll give her credit for the cooking. But I haven't forgiven her yet. She made me look bad today, and she smashed the little cake Auntie Ivy gave me the other day. I don't want to talk to her — not unless she apologizes to Auntie Ivy first. And she always wants to hug and kiss me, but she smells like cooking smoke. She doesn't smell nice like Auntie Ivy does. I don't want her hugging me anymore. Daddy, you have to help me."
I reached over and tapped the tip of her nose. "All right. Daddy promises."
That was enough. She brightened immediately, and we drove to the estate in considerably better spirits.
Roxi ran happily through the grounds for most of the evening. I still had unfinished business from the morning's interrupted meetings and spent the hours in a video conference from one of the estate's quieter rooms, while my mother worked her way through her phone list, calling relatives and guests to confirm their arrival.
The next morning, everyone slept in.
By the time the guests began arriving, the estate had nothing ready for them — no drinks, no food, not even a simple cold spread. My mother took one look at the empty tables and came apart.
"What on earth is Helen doing? Does she not know what day it is?"
Face was everything to my mother, and the situation was a direct assault on it. She was furious — and she was already dialing Helen's number.
