Forgotten Again

AUDREY'S POV

"Mommy, do you think Daddy forgot again?"

The question cut through the quiet hum of the kitchen. I stood motionless at the sink. Cold tap water rushed over the ceramic cereal bowl in my hands. I stared at the soap suds swirling down the steel drain. Maya’s voice was far too quiet. It carried a heavy resignation that a seven-year-old should never possess. She already knew the harsh answer. She just desperately wanted me to tell her she was wrong.

I turned the harsh, rushing faucet off. I dried my wet hands on a linen dish towel and walked straight into the living room.

Maya sat perched on the very edge of the beige sofa. She wore the ruffled pink dress she had specifically picked out two weeks ago for this exact occasion. Her little legs dangled above the hardwood floor. Her shiny black patent leather shoes tapped gently against the fabric of the couch in a rhythmic, nervous habit. Her dark eyes stayed glued to the large bay window facing the empty driveway.

I forced a warm smile and kept my tone steady. "No, baby. Daddy is just running a little late. He promised he would be here before five, remember? Traffic can be awful this time of evening."

She slowly turned her head and looked at the large wall clock above the fireplace. The long metal hand ticked past the three. It was already a quarter past six in the evening.

She turned her gaze back to the empty driveway outside the glass pane. "He said that last year too. And he never came."

A thick lump formed in my throat. I swallowed hard against the bitter ache rising in my chest. She remembered. Children always remembered the sacred promises their parents destroyed. I did not want to lie to my daughter. I also could not bear to shatter the fragile hope keeping her glued to those couch cushions.

I crouched down beside her and gently tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind her small ear. "I know he missed last year, Maya. But he promised he would make it up to you today. Something important must have come up at work. Grown-up jobs can be very complicated sometimes."

She offered no response. She simply continued staring out the window, looking for headlights that were not going to appear. She was waiting for a miracle.

I pushed myself up from the floor. I rubbed my clammy palms down the sides of my denim jeans. My chest felt tight. Frustration burned hot through my veins. It was not just about today. It was the crushing accumulation of a hundred minor abandonments. He missed birthdays. He skipped school recitals. He left me to answer Maya’s questions every single night while I pretended to know where he spent his hours.

I pulled my phone from my back pocket and dialed Nolan's contact number. It rang three times before going straight to voicemail. I hung up and dialed a second time. Voicemail again.

The grandfather clock in the hall chimed smoothly. It was now six-thirty. Nolan was not coming home anytime soon. The late evening shadows stretched long and dark across the living room carpet. Maya looked incredibly pale in the fading light. Her small shoulders slumped forward. The energy had completely drained from her body after sitting in that rigid posture for hours. I could not let her sit there punishing herself for her father's failures.

I called out toward the kitchen hallway. "Carmen."

The maid poked her head around the corner a moment later. "Yes, ma'am?"

I gestured softly toward the stairs. "Can you help Maya get upstairs and change into her nightwear, please?"

Maya’s face fell. The last spark of anticipation faded from her dark eyes, but she did not fight back. She slid off the sofa cushions without a single protest. She dragged her feet across the floor, following Carmen toward the wooden staircase.

I stood alone in the quiet living room. The thick silence in the house felt suffocating. I unlocked my phone screen and stared at the glowing digital numbers. Six forty-seven. No text messages. No missed calls. Nothing.

I opened our message thread and quickly typed out a text. "Nolan, where are you? Maya waited all day. You promised."

I pressed send. The grey delivered badge appeared, but no read receipt followed.

The dark hours dragged on with agonizing slowness. I sat alone on the living room sofa, staring at the bright screen of my phone. I swiped through our old digital photo albums in the dim light. I found the beach pictures from four years ago. We actually looked like a real family back then. Nolan used to smile in photographs. His eyes used to carry a genuine warmth whenever he looked at us. He used to come home from the office before sunset. Now, I was nothing more than background noise to his life. I was just a roommate who managed his pristine household, washed his laundry, and raised his child. I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat and closed the phone gallery.

Quiet footsteps sounded on the stairs at twenty past eight. Carmen returned to the main floor.

Carmen kept her voice low in the quiet entryway. "She is asleep, ma'am. She didn't even touch her warm glass of milk."

I nodded slowly. "Thanks, Carmen. You can go rest for the night."

I waited for the faint click of the maid's bedroom door closing before I stood up. I climbed the wooden stairs, my legs feeling like lead weights. I pushed Maya’s bedroom door open. A sliver of yellow light from the hallway spilled across her twin bed.

She lay curled on her side on top of the soft duvet. She was still wearing the ruffled pink birthday dress. She must have adamantly refused to let Carmen change her clothes, terrified that her father might walk through the door the second she took it off. Her little arms clutched the worn-out brown teddy bear Nolan had bought for her first birthday. It was one of the very few milestones he had actually bothered to attend.

I walked over to the bed and carefully pulled the thick comforter up to her shoulders. She did not stir. Her breathing remained slow and even.

I brushed my lips against her warm forehead and whispered into the quiet room. "Happy birthday, baby. I am so sorry."

I retreated from the bedroom and pulled the door shut until only a narrow crack remained. I went back downstairs to the dim living room. I sat in the armchair and watched the wall clock. Oppressive anticipation settled heavily over my chest. I waited. I watched the minute hand sweep in endless, mocking circles.

Nine o'clock passed into history. Then ten o'clock. Then eleven.

The house grew freezing cold, matching the icy disappointment pooling deep in my stomach. The silence roared in my ears. I sat in the pitch dark without turning on the television or opening a book. I did not even realize how late it truly was until the digital clock on the mantle flipped to exactly midnight.

The sharp metal click of the front door lock breaking the silence made me jump.

I shot up from the armchair. My pulse slammed aggressively against my ribs. The heavy oak door swung inward. Nolan stepped into the grand foyer. He carried his expensive wool coat draped casually over his left arm. He held his phone in his right hand, his thumb hovering over the lit screen. He pushed the door shut with the heel of his leather shoe. He did not freeze. He did not look startled to find me standing in the dark living room staring at him. He carried himself with the same casual arrogance he always did. He acted as if this were just another mundane Tuesday night instead of the day he broke his child's heart.

I could not remember the last time I had raised my voice at my husband. Tonight, I did not care. "Where the hell have you been?"

Nolan blinked at me under the harsh light of the entryway chandelier. "I told you earlier this week. I had a lot going on at the company lately."

I held my hand up in the air to stop him. "Don't. Don't you dare use that excuse again."

He let out a long, heavy sigh. He dropped his shoulders down, looking at me like I was a nagging burden. "Audrey, I had a long day. I am tired. I really do not want to do this right now."

I stepped closer to him. "No. You do not get to walk in here and act like nothing happened. Your daughter sat in that living room all dressed up, waiting for you. She kept staring at the wall clock. She thought you were going to burst through that door with balloons and hugs and apologize for being late. And you never came."

A brief shadow flickered across his sharp features. It might have been a twinge of guilt, or perhaps just annoyance that I was keeping him awake. But I recognized that look instantly. The realization hit me like a physical blow to the stomach. He forgot. He actually forgot his own daughter's birthday. Again. Just like last year.

My voice trembled as the heartbreaking disappointment washed over me. "She told you every single morning for the last two weeks that today was her birthday. She counted down the days on the fridge calendar. She talked about it nonstop during breakfast."

He spoke the words in a flat, defensive tone. "I was busy, Audrey."

I crossed my arms tight over my chest. "Busy with what? Busy enough that you could not pick up my call or reply to my frantic messages? You run your own business, Nolan. You set your own schedule. You could have made time if you actually wanted to. One day. All we asked for was one damn day for your daughter."

He looked away toward the staircase. His jaw tightened in a visible display of irritation. "I am not doing this."

He turned his body sideways to walk past me.

I reached out faster than I could process the fleeting thought. My fingers wrapped tightly around his forearm. The movement forced his shoulder to jerk, and he quickly spun back around to face me. The sudden motion created a rush of air between us.

The scent hit my nose immediately.

It was a cloying, sweet perfume. A heavy floral fragrance of jasmine and vanilla. It was entirely unfamiliar. It did not belong to my vanity collection, and it certainly did not belong to his usual cologne.

Blinding shock rooted my feet onto the hardwood floor. My eyes darted to his neck. That is when I saw it resting on the crisp fabric of his collar.

A faint, distinct pink lip stain smeared deeply into the white cotton.

Lipstick.

I stared fixedly at the bright pink smear. The grand foyer seemed to narrow around me. The bright light of the chandelier faded out of focus. The blood roared in my ears, drowning out the ticking clock. The agonizing wait, the cheap excuses, the endless coldness—it all snapped into burning focus right in front of me.

My voice dropped to a bare, shaky whisper. "Who is she?"