He Chose Her Over Our Baby / Chapter 4: No More Waiting
He Chose Her Over Our Baby

He Chose Her Over Our Baby

Author: Bonnie Evans


Chapter 4: No More Waiting

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Because I hadn’t answered the phone. Not for any of them.

I’d just finished nursing my daughter at the postpartum care center—a clean, bright room that smelled like lavender and baby powder—when my mother-in-law burst in, face red, hair wild, panic all over her.

"Natalie, why didn’t you answer my calls? Do you know your father is about to lose his mind at the embassy?"

"Hurry and come home with me, bring Gavin’s documents, and go to the embassy." She paced back and forth, wringing her hands, her purse slipping off her shoulder.

I waited for her to finish, then calmly recited six numbers: "482917."

She blinked at me, thrown off by my composure.

I tucked the blanket around my sleeping daughter, smoothing her tiny hands. "I’m still in postpartum recovery and can’t go out. That’s the code for the front door. You can grab whatever documents you need from the apartment."

My mother-in-law’s hand trembled, knuckles white on the doorknob.

"Natalie, how can you be so heartless? Gavin is missing in a war zone!"

"Didn’t you see the group SOS message Gavin sent? He said he was shot in the leg and is now hiding in a stranger’s house."

"I know you’re recovering, but this is an emergency. Can’t you come with me to the embassy to confirm the situation?" Her voice cracked with fear, the words almost tumbling over each other.

But I just met her eyes and answered, steady as ever: "I know about Gavin’s situation. Before he sent the group SOS, he sent me several SOS messages, but I ignored them."

My mother-in-law staggered, clutching the wall like the weight of my words was too much.

Seeing her crumble, guilt jabbed at me. In all my years with Gavin, she’d been nothing but kind—cooking for me, holding my hand at every appointment, trying to fill the space my own mother left behind.

But now, all that was dust—blown away by Gavin’s choice.

I quietly pulled out my phone, scrolled to the video I’d taken that night—the one where Gavin left—and handed it to my mother-in-law. "Mom, don’t blame me for being heartless. This was Gavin’s own choice."

Her hands shook as she watched, knuckles white, the phone slipping slightly. When the video ended, she crumpled to the floor, all the air knocked out of her.

She opened her mouth a few times, but only managed, "Listen to me, Natalie, there’s really nothing between Gavin and Jenna Young."

In the end, I couldn’t leave her like that. Even though my C-section scar throbbed, I got out of bed and helped her up, just like I’d helped Gavin when he left without a backward glance.

"I know there’s nothing physical between him and Jenna Young. But Gavin left his wife and daughter behind to rush to a war zone for Jenna. That means he doesn’t value our family."

"He’d rather let my daughter lose her father and me lose my husband—leaving me a widow—just to find Jenna. Then he should be prepared to face the consequences."

My mother-in-law’s face went gray, lips pressed together, her shoulders slumping.

She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Maybe even she knew there was nothing left to say.

Finally, she gave up, shuffling to her feet, voice breaking as she said, "Take care of yourself during your recovery. I’ll go now."

She looked so much older than she had a week ago, her steps faltering as she left the room, the door closing softly behind her.

I watched her go, sadness settling in my chest. But as she reached the door, I couldn’t help myself.

"Mom, when you and Dad have time this week, please move out of my apartment for a while."

She turned, disbelief and hurt warring on her face. "Can’t you wait a little longer?"

I shook my head, gentle but firm. "Didn’t Gavin also not wait to take me to the hospital after my water broke, before flying overseas?"

"I just want to get the divorce paperwork started and figure out what’s fair before he comes back."

The door clicked shut behind her, and for the first time, the silence felt like freedom. I held my daughter close and whispered, “We’re going to be just fine.”

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