“Hi there. Everything okay? Surprised, Clara peered.
Yes, everything’s amazing. Kids are great.”
Eli laughed and put his keys down. Pleased to hear that.
Can we chat? Sitting on the sofa, they barely fit. I boosted the loudness.
“I just wanted to check in,” Eli said. “Sarah’s been struggling lately. Postpartum issues.
“She’s fragile right now.”
What? My jaw fell. A grin fell from Clara.
“Oh. I did not know.”
He added, “She hides it well,” smoothly. “But it’s been hard on us all.
Things ended poorly with the last several babysitters. Slightly leaned in. “No pressure if you feel uneasy.
You may go before things become worse.”
Clara looked at the kids and then him. “I dunno. The situation seems normal.”
Eli dropped his voice.
“They all say so. We agree that less involvement is preferable. Makes everything simpler.”
Clara rose suddenly.
“I think I should go.”
Eli grinned. Of course. I get it.”
With that, she went.
I froze in the vehicle, gazing at my computer. He did it. Again.
Manipulated her. Lying about me. Driven her away.
I never noticed—until now. Natalie had offered to keep the kids the following morning, so I waited until they were settled. I saw Eli butter bread in the kitchen without a care.
“We need to talk,” I said. He looked up. “Sure.
What’s up? With a racing heart, I folded my arms. “I know what you did to the babysitters.”
His hands stopped.
“What are you discussing?”
“Nanny cam. I saw everything, Eli.”
Silence. He gently turned to face me after dropping the knife in the sink.
“You spied on me?”
“Don’t,” I said. Let’s not talk about me. Tell Clara I have postpartum depression.
You told her to resign. Just like others.”
Sighing, he rubbed his face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Ivy.”
Then why?
My voice broke. Why lie? Why sabotage every sitter I hired?
He yelled, “Because I didn’t want you going back to work!” “Do you want to hear that?”
I recoiled. Words were horrible. At least they were honest.
“I liked having you here,” he admitted, softly. The kids need you. I need you.
When you go, everything falls apart.”
Shaking my head, I was shocked. “You decided for me? Your lies and manipulation made me believe I was the problem.”
I wanted to keep our family together.”
“No,” I insisted.
“You tried to control me.”
Jaw constricted. “Not like that.”
“Exactly like that.”
I retreated as he advanced. “I’m leaving,” I said.
“Ivy—”
“Not forever. Not yet. Taking the kids to my sister’s for a bit.
I need room. And time to discover out what this marriage is truly founded on—because it looks like fear and lies.”
He didn’t fight. Didn’t beg.
I stood there while packing upstairs. That night, I drove away with the kids—Mia singing in the backseat, Noah chattering at clouds—as the home behind us shrank in the rearview mirror. My heart hurt.
It felt light too. I finally felt in control after weeks or months. I had no idea what was ahead.
I knew one thing:
I would never allow anyone—especially the guy who professed to love me—define me or limit my potential.
