Chapter 5
Elena had been conscious the next morning.
Weak.
But conscious.
Imogen entered alone.
Told her Lila had been moved for specialized care.
Not dead.
Moved.
Elena demanded to see her.
Imogen said later.
Later never came.
Then Elena deteriorated.
My wife spent her final days believing Lila was alive somewhere nearby.
That nearly destroyed me.
“Did she ask for me?”
I asked.
Imogen nodded.
“What did you tell her?”
“That you were with Lucy.”
True sometimes.
Not always.
“What else?”
“That you agreed Lila needed distance.”
My hands clenched.
“You told my dying wife I agreed to separate our daughters?”
Imogen started sobbing.
“I thought I could fix it when things calmed down.”
There it was.
Every irreversible act defended as temporary.
“When?”
No answer.
One week.
One month.
One year.
At what point did she plan to return a child who believed another couple was her family?
Then Colin finally spoke.
“She didn’t plan to.”
Imogen turned.
He looked exhausted.
“She stopped talking about returning Lila after six months.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
He looked at his wife.
“Because she couldn’t have children.”
Silence.
Everything changed.
Imogen had suffered two losses before Lila was born.
I knew.
Never asked deeply.
My mistake.
Not guilt.
Context.
She took Lila initially under the excuse of protection.
Then attachment hardened.
Lila filled a wound.
Colin accepted it.
Maybe encouraged it.
Maybe enjoyed having a daughter without questions.
“What did you call yourselves?”
I asked.
Imogen looked away.
Lila answered from inside the room.
“Aunt Imogen.”
Interesting.
Not mother.
So even she knew enough not to cross that line completely.
“What about Colin?”
“Uncle Colin.”
Good.
Then why keep her?
Not motherhood exactly.
Control.
Possession without naming.
Then Colin said:
“Your mother said returning her would destroy everyone.”
There.
Margaret again.
Not just aware.
Advising.
I called her.
She answered on the second ring.
“Luca.”
No surprise.
Of course.
“You knew I’d find out.”
Silence.
Then:
“Eventually.”
May you like
My mother had been waiting three years for eventual truth.
I had nothing gentle left to say.
