The Spare Phone Held Years Of Spare Love Chapter 07

The Spare Phone Held Years Of Spare Love Chapter 07

On the day of the hearing, I woke up very early. 

There was fog outside the window, a flat gray–white spread over everything. 

I pinned up my hair and changed into a dark coat. 

The face in the mirror looked unfamiliar. Not 

haggard, just calm. 

So calm it seemed to have been waiting for 

something that should have happened a long time. 

ago. 

There were already people outside the courthouse. 

when I arrived. 

I saw Ethan standing at the bottom of the steps, 

with Laurel beside him. 

She had lost a lot of weight. She wore an 

oversized trench coat, but her stomach could no 

longer be hidden. 

Ethan was holding her arm. 

When he saw me, he let go. 

Laurel turned too. She looked at me for two 

seconds, then lowered her eyes without saying a 

word. 

I didn’t look at either of them. I walked straight into 

the courthouse. 

The hearing began. 

My attorney presented the first set of evidence: 

bank statements, the condo purchase contract, and the vehicle registration. 

The opposing attorney challenged each item one 

by one. 

“These payments were made during the marriage 

and constituted ordinary gifts from Mr. Bennett to 

a third party. They don’t amount to dissipation or 

illegal transfer of marital assets.” 

“Mr. Bennett and Ms. Hayes have been friends for 

years. Their financial dealings were private 

matters and had no bearing on the marital 

relationship.” 

I listened to those words as if I were hearing 

someone else’s story. 

As if more than six hundred thousand dollars were 

nothing but a glass of cold tea on the table, 

something you could pour out once it went cold. 

Then my attorney presented the second set of 

evidence. 

The letter. 

“This is a letter the defendant wrote to Ms. 

Hayes’s unborn child,” she said. “In it, he explicitly. 

referred to himself as ‘Daddy‘ and to Ms. Hayes as 

‘Mommy.’ While still legally married to his wife, he 

was planning a family life with a third party.” 

She projected the letter onto the screen. 

“We believe this goes beyond a conventional 

extramarital affair and supports our claim that 

they held themselves out as a family unit, along 

with the basis for our bigamy–related allegation.” 

The gallery went quiet for a moment. 

I turned my head slightly. 

Ethan did not face the screen. His head was 

lowered, and I could not see his expression. 

Laurel was trembling. She gripped the hem of her coat so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. 

The judge asked, “Does the defendant dispute this 

evidence?” 

Ethan stood. 

“No.” 

Laurel reached for his sleeve, but he gently pulled 

away. 

“That letter,” he said, “was written by me.” 

“Every word in it was true.” 

He turned toward me. 

For the first time in six years, I saw something in 

his eyes that I could not understand. 

It was not guilt. It was not remorse. 

It was something else, something I didn’t know 

how to describe. As if he had finally dragged a 

secret he had hidden for half his life into the 

sunlight. 

“Claire,” he said, “there are things I owe you an 

explanation for.” 

I looked into his eyes. 

“No.” 

He stopped. 

“I’ve been hearing your explanations for five years,” 

I said. “In the bank statements, in the social medial 

photos, in the transfers you sent on time every 

month.” 

“Every single one explained things clearly enough.” 

He was silent for a long time. 

So long that the judge had to remind him to 

continue. 

He shook his head lightly. 

“I have nothing else to say.” 

The court recessed. 

I got up and walked out. 

Someone called my name from behind me. 

It was Laurel. 

She followed me to the corner of the hallway and lightly caught my wrist. 

“Mrs. Bennett,” she said, “I know you hate me.” 

I said nothing. 

“That letter,” she said softly, “I didn’t know about it 

when he wrote it.” 

“I only saw it later, after he sent it to my phone and 

saved it there.” 

She lowered her head. 

“He had never called the baby Nellie before.” 

“After he saw those little shoes, he said he wanted 

to give her that nickname.” 

A draft swept through the hallway. 

I looked at her. 

Her eyes were red, but she didn’t cry. 

“The money he owes you,” she said, “I’ll pay it 

back.” 

“The condo is already listed. The car has been 

sold.” 

“I’ll return whatever I can.” 

I looked at her. 

Thirty–two years old. Principal cellist. Lupus patient. Seven months away from becoming at 

mother. 

She could have chosen not to come after me. 

She could have stayed silent, refused to admit 

anything, and made no promise to repay a cent. 

She could have kept playing the woman who knew 

nothing. 

“You can’t pay it back,” I said. 

She froze. 

“That condo cost four hundred seventy thousand 

dollars,” I said. “Now that it’s listed, it’ll only sell for 

a little over three hundred thousand. The car has 

depreciated even worse.” 

“And what you owe me isn’t just money.” 

She lowered her eyes. 

“I know.” 

At the end of the hallway, Ethan stood watching 

1. us. 

He didn’t come closer. 

I said to Laurel, “When he wrote that letter, did you know what it said?” 

She shook her head. 

“He said the best thing that ever happened to him was meeting you,” I said. “He said what he owed 

you two could never be repaid in this lifetime.” 

“He named that child Nellie.” 

She went still. 

“In six years of marriage, he never once imagined 

a future for us with that kind of care. He never 

even thought of a name.” 

I pulled my hand free from her grasp. 

“Go back and tell him.” 

“Until this case is over, I don’t want to see him 

again.” 

She stood there without moving. 

I turned and stepped into the elevator. 

Before the doors closed, I saw her still standing in 

the hallway, motionless as a statue. 

In that moment, a thought came to me. 

She had been deceived too. 

Only it was not Ethan who had deceived her. 

It was the dream Ethan had built for her.