He Forced Me To Abort Now He Begs Me Back Chapter 24
For the next six months, Evan attended every supervised visit.
He was never late. He never brought up Diane again.
Sometimes he would send messages through OurFamilyWizard asking what new things Aurora was doing, or upload a certificate showing he had completed another parenting course.
I answered only the questions that related directly to our child.
Not one word more.
At six months old, Aurora sat up on her own for the first time.
The supervisor’s notes mentioned that Evan cried when he saw it.
At eight months, she started babbling a blurry version of “Mama.”
That day, after the visit, Evan sent a message through the app.
“I heard her.”
I didn’t reply.
At ten months, he completed every course the court had required—but he didn’t immediately file to lift the supervision.
A week later, he asked if he could speak to me for ten minutes in the supervisor’s presence.
I agreed.
We met in the same room with the animals painted on the walls.
Aurora stood on the foam mat, holding onto a low table, completely focused on smacking a stuffed toy against its surface.
Evan sat in a chair six feet away from me.
“I used to think that if I did everything right now, it would somehow cancel out the past.”
I said nothing.
“But every time I look at her, all I can think about is that dinner.”
He lowered his head.
“I stood on that stage and said she should disappear. And then I expected everyone to believe I loved her.”
His voice grew quieter.
“Leah, I know you’ll never forgive me.”
“No, I won’t.”
He looked up, his eyes rimmed with red.
He probably hadn’t expected such a direct answer.
“And I won’t forgive you on Aurora’s behalf, either,” I said. “When she learns the truth one day, what she chooses to do with it will be up to her.”
Evan nodded slowly.
“I’m not going to petition to end the supervision. Not yet. The investigator was right. I need to prove I’m not just holding on to her because I lost you.”
This time, he didn’t ask me to believe him.
He didn’t offer any terms.
When the ten minutes were up, he stood.
At that exact moment, Aurora let go of the table and took her first unsteady step.
Evan reached out instinctively.
But she turned toward me and toppled right into my arms.
I caught her easily.
The room was quiet for a few seconds.
Evan slowly lowered his hand.
“She can walk now,” he said, his voice thick.
“Yes.”
He managed a small, broken smile, even as a tear rolled down his cheek.
“That’s good.”
I picked Aurora up and left the room.
No one chased after me. No hand pushed the door back open.
Some regrets do, finally, learn to stay behind the line.
But his had come too late to win anything back.