All I'd wanted was one taste of his sweet and sour ribs.
I'd sent messages through every channel I could find, again and again, but I never once saw Stewart in person. All I ever got back were his apologetic replies.
"I'm sorry, babe. I really can't find the time."
I told myself it was all for our child. That was the only way I could swallow it and keep going.
What I never expected was that while I sat in prison serving his sentence, Stewart had already built another life on the outside. A new home. A new wife.
And all those times he said he couldn't find the time? He'd been in the kitchen making sweet and sour ribs for another woman.
Alberta noticed I hadn't touched my chopsticks. She picked up a piece of the shredded pork and chewed it twice before setting her own down.
"My husband's version is way more flavorful. He knows I can't stand ginger, so he always minces it so fine you can't even taste it."
My hand clenched around my fork. My knuckles went white.
When Stewart used to cook for me, he never bothered picking out the ginger. He'd just say it was good for circulation, and when I complained, he'd glare at me and lecture me like I was being ungrateful.
"You're lucky to have food at all. Stop being so picky."
"Babe, if you want to stay healthy, you can't be fussy about what you eat."
But now, with something to compare it to, the truth was painfully clear.
It wasn't that he didn't know how. It wasn't that he didn't care. He simply hadn't wanted to do it for me.
A wave of acid surged up my throat, churning my stomach inside out.
"Hey, you okay?"
Alberta's voice pulled me back.
The child in her arms whimpered softly and reached for a toy car on the table.
"Do you think I'm too high-maintenance?" Alberta laughed. "My husband says the same thing, but he still cooks everything the way I like it."
She bounced the little girl on her knee, her eyes full of warmth.
"Look at this little one. She's only three or four and she already takes her daddy's side. Last time I pretended to yell at him, this girl grabbed my hand and bit me."
"Doesn't help me out at all. I have no idea who she takes after."
That one sentence made my head snap up.
Could it be... that Stewart had his reasons for all of this?
Had everything he'd done been for our child?
For the first time, I truly looked at the little girl. Before I'd gotten pregnant, Stewart and I had already agreed: boy or girl, the baby's name would be Amelia.
My eyes burned. My vision blurred as I stared at the child.
"What's your daughter's name?"
"Amelia."
I knew it.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Stewart hadn't betrayed me. Maybe life had forced his hand, and he'd had no choice but to live with another woman. But he'd kept our baby. He'd brought our child into this world.
I could barely contain myself. Carefully, I rose from my seat and crouched down beside the little girl.
"Sweetheart, can you call me Mama?"
Alberta stiffened instantly. She pulled the child behind her, shielding her.
"What is wrong with you?"
"You can't just ask someone's kid to call you Mama!"
I hurried to wipe my tears, trying to pull myself together.
"I'm sorry. She just reminded me of my own daughter."
"When I left my husband and child, my baby hadn't been born yet. She'd be about your daughter's age by now."
Alberta blinked. Something like guilt flickered across her face. "Oh... I see."
She scratched the back of her head, and then, as if to comfort me, she pushed the little girl into my arms with surprising generosity.
"Well, in that case, you can be her godmother from now on."
"Amelia, say hi to Mama."
I hadn't expected Alberta to be so open-handed.
I just wondered whether she had any idea that this child wasn't her biological daughter.
Back at the table, I picked up a piece of broccoli and put it in my mouth. It tasted like nothing at all.
