CHAPTER 3: Her Stolen Son
1175 Words
Today felt different.
As they reached the front door, a mix of sounds met them, loud voices, the noise from a television, and something else… an argument. The tension in the air made Benjamin stiffen, his tiny fingers tightening around his mother’s hand. His wide eyes filled with fear.
“Mommy, is Emory in danger?” he whispered.
Cora bent down, running a hand over his soft hair. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Stay right here.”
She knocked. No answer.
Looking through the window was useless because the curtains were closed tight. Something was wrong. Just as she reached for the door handle, a sharp crack was heard.
A slap. Loud. Harsh.
Then a man’s voice, cold and angry.
“He’s not your son. Let that stick into your head, woman.”
Cora’s breath caught. Her heart pounded hard in her chest.
What the hell was going on?
Cora didn’t need to guess that James was here.
Without a second thought, she grabbed a stone, holding it tightly. If he had hurt Emory, she wasn’t going to stand by and do nothing. She raised her arm, ready to smash the door glass and unlock it from inside.
But just as she lifted it, the door suddenly opened.
Emory stood there, smiling like everything was fine. Her eyes moved to the stone in Cora’s hand, then back to her face, looking amused.
Cora’s fingers loosened, and the stone fell to the ground with a dull sound. Without thinking, she placed her hands on Emory’s face, checking for bruises, marks, any sign of what she had just heard. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“I'm fine,” Emory said, brushing off the concern like it was nothing. Her voice was too casual, too smooth. “Why on earth are you holding a stone?”
Cora folded her arms, eyes narrowing. “I was about to break the door and save you from that monster you call a husband. Where is he?”
Emory’s face changed, turning cold. “Don’t insult my husband,” she snapped. Then, as if the conversation had never happened, she turned to Benjamin, her face lighting up. “Big Benny!” she cheered, bending down to hug him tight, giving him a high five before leading him inside.
Cora followed, stepping into the living room where a movie played softly on the television. But her attention wasn’t on the screen.
It was on James.
He walked past, suitcase in hand, his face unreadable. She didn’t greet him. Didn’t even look away. Her hands tightened into fists as she watched him head for the door.
James, completely unbothered, leaned toward Emory. “Honey, I’m out. See you in the evening,” he said smoothly, then shut the door behind him.
Cora stood still, her jaw tight. Something was very, very wrong.
The three settled in the living room, but the air was thick with unspoken words.
Cora leaned forward, eyes locked on her friend. “I know what I heard,” she said firmly. “You and James were arguing. If you’re unhappy, just walk away. Your peace of mind is more important than any marriage that leads to your early grave.”
Emory’s expression hardened. “Don’t tell me how to handle my home,” she shot back. “I’m a married woman. Arguments happen, but we move past them. Have I ever told you I’m unhappy? Whatever noise you heard was just from the movie.”
Cora wasn’t convinced. Then, her eyes landed on something which was Emory’s wrist. A bruise. Partially hidden under the long sleeves she had carefully chosen to wear.
Silence stretched between them before Cora let out a slow breath. “Don’t let marriage be the reason you suffer in silence,” she said softly. “Real happiness is out there, and you deserve it.”
Emory forced a smile. “Thanks for the advice, but shouldn’t you be heading to work? As a cook, you’re keeping an entire restaurant waiting.”
It was a dismissal. Clear as day.
Shifting her focus, Emory turned to Benjamin, her voice lighter as she ran her fingers through his hair. “Big Benny, are you hungry?”
The little boy nodded, his face lighting up. She took him to the kitchen, already dishing out his food.
Cora sighed, placing the big bag of his things on the couch before heading to the kitchen. She took her smaller bag from Benjamin, then bent down, kissing his forehead. “Be good, okay?”
He gave a small smile. “Okay, Mommy.”
Cora turned to Emory. “I’ll see you later in the evening.”
“Bye,” was the only response, her tone flat, her eyes fixed on the plate in front of her.
She was upset, but Cora knew better than to push further.
As Cora stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind her, her breath caught in her throat.
James hadn't left. He sat in his car, engine running, eyes locked on her.
Watching.
Waiting.
For what? Or worse, for who?
James rolled down the car window, waving her over, but she didn’t even look his way.
“Let me give you a ride,” he called out, driving slowly behind her.
She ignored him, kept walking.
He let out a small grin, shaking his head. “My wife deserves a medal for dealing with a stubborn best friend like you. No wonder she picked up those bad habits.”
Still nothing.
“Maybe that’s why you still don’t have a husband?” he mocked.
She stopped in her tracks. Slowly, she turned, her voice sharp. “Better single than married to a woman-beater.”
James threw his head back, laughing. “Is that what she told you? Sit tight, I’ve got a story for you.”
His voice turned cold, a bitter tone slipping in. “When I was a kid, I had a father, a mother, siblings —family, right? Wrong. They never cared. My mother worked herself to the bone for my brother and sister. My father? A drunk, a junkie and useless. To me, they are dead. I had to fend for myself. The streets raised me. My neighbors fed me, cleaned me up, and taught me how to survive. That’s how I became the man I am today.”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he looked at her through the open window. “And that boy of yours? Every time I see him, I see myself. One day, Emory will buy his love completely, and you? You’ll be nothing but a forgotten memory.”
Her breath caught in her throat, but he wasn’t done.
“My wife is done hoping, done begging, done seeing doctors. She’s not even talking about adoption anymore. She wants your child.”
With that, he stepped on the gas and sped off, leaving her standing in the middle of the road, her heart pounding in her chest.
What the hell did he mean by that?
- Writer
