Chapter 6 - The Door She Opened Herself
At thirty-four weeks, Claire woke to Hannah knocking on her bedroom door.
“Your landlord called.”
Claire pushed herself upright.
“What happened?”
“The building’s being sold.”
For a moment, she simply stared.
Then Hannah added, “Your lease isn’t ending today. Breathe.”
Claire breathed.
Poorly.
The owner had scheduled an inspection and wanted to discuss a possible buyout before renovations. The letter was impersonal, printed on thick paper.
At the bottom appeared the name of the purchasing company.
Claire recognized it from the documents Tessa had shown them.
An Ellis-connected property business.
Her attorney cautioned against assuming the sale itself was retaliation. They would request records, review her lease, and document every contact.
Reasonable advice.
It did nothing for the knot beneath Claire’s ribs.
Roman arrived that evening after she asked him to come.
He read the notice at her kitchen table.
“I have apartments available,” he said.
Claire went still.
He noticed immediately.
“That came out wrong.”
“Yes.”
He set down the paper.
“Tell me what would help.”
She looked around her little kitchen.
The chipped blue mug.
The baby bottles drying beside the sink.
The calendar where she had marked every prenatal appointment herself.
“I need to know I can solve a problem without becoming dependent on the person helping me.”
Roman nodded.
“Then let’s figure out your options.”
They spent the next hour comparing rental listings with Hannah.
Roman made tea.
Hannah asked landlords about elevators.
Claire checked bus routes and calculated deposits.
No one announced a rescue.
By ten, they had found three realistic possibilities.
Claire felt tired.
She also felt capable.
Two days later, Blake waited outside her building.
She stopped on the sidewalk, keeping several yards between them.
“Leave.”
“Please. Five minutes.”
“You can send a message through counsel.”
His coat was open despite the cold. He looked thinner, his usual polish replaced by restless energy.
“They’re freezing accounts.”
Claire said nothing.
“Ellis handled the structure. I didn’t know everything.”
“You knew the clinic never hired you.”
He looked away.
That was answer enough.
“I can fix this,” he said.
“Then tell the investigators the truth.”
“You think Veyne’s going to keep you? You think he wants midnight feedings and somebody else’s baby?”
The familiar cruelty arrived so quickly it almost seemed comforting.
A language she knew.
Claire stepped toward the building entrance.
Blake moved after her.
She raised her voice.
“Stop following me.”
A neighbor turned.
Blake halted.
Claire entered, locked the door behind her, and called Hannah before her hands began shaking.
Later, she documented the encounter.
Then she sat on the floor beside the crib and cried.
Roman came when Hannah called him with Claire’s permission.
He found her sitting there in pajamas, furious at herself.
“I hate that he can still do this.”
Roman lowered himself onto the floor several feet away.
“Make you cry?”
“Make me feel stupid.”
“You trusted someone who lied.”
“I ignored things.”
“So have I.”
She looked at him.
He did not fill the silence with reassurance.
He stayed.
Eventually, Claire leaned against his shoulder.
He put an arm around her only when she moved closer.
That was how their first kiss happened.
No ballroom.
No audience.
Just a tired woman beside an unfinished nursery and a man who waited until she lifted her face.
Afterward, Claire laughed through the last of her tears.
“This is terrible timing.”
“Probably.”
“You could disagree.”
“I’m trying a new approach.”
She rested her forehead against his.
For one evening, nothing was solved.
The investigation continued.
Her housing remained uncertain.
Lucy pressed a heel beneath her ribs as if objecting to all adult decisions.
But when Roman left, he washed the mugs first.
He checked that Hannah was staying.
Then he asked what time Claire wanted him to call tomorrow.
“After work,” she said.
May you like
He called after work.
Somehow, that small fact followed her into sleep.
