Chapter 7 - The Road to Redemption
When Colin opened the door to my hospital room at seven o'clock on Thursday evening, I barely recognized him.
His hair was unwashed, dark circles shadowed his eyes, and he was carrying a large wooden box under his arm.
Chloe stood up instantly from the armchair beside my bed, her arms crossed, ready to block him. But Colin didn't even look at Chloe. He walked straight to the edge of my bed, dropped to both knees on the hard linoleum floor, and bowed his head.
"Tessa," he said, his voice shaking violently. "I am so sorry."
I didn't answer. I just watched him, my face neutral.
"I stayed with my mother for three days," Colin choked out, tears dropping onto the bedsheets. "I sat in her house and I heard the way she talks about you. I heard the way she treats people. And I realized... I realized I have been a monster to you."
He looked up, his eyes bloodshot and raw with genuine shame.
"You built a life with me, Tessa. You gave me your heart, your trust, and you're carrying my child. And when you were drowning, when you were literally in pain, I handed you a trash bag because I was too weak to stand up to my mother."
Chloe watched him closely, her expression shifting slightly from anger to quiet observation.
"Words don't fix the house, Colin," I said softly. "Words don't fix the nursery."
Colin immediately reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a binder, setting it on the tray table beside me.
"I spent the last two days fixing it," he said frantically. "I hired a commercial cleaning team—they deep-cleaned every carpet, sanitized the walls, and scrubbed the kitchen. I bought a brand-new chest freezer. I spent fifteen hours yesterday in the kitchen cooking every single recipe from your journal."
I blinked, stunned. "You cooked?"
"Turkey chili, chicken pot pie, vegetable lasagna, breakfast burritos," Colin listed, his voice breaking. "I bought the exact ingredients you listed in your notebook. I packaged them, labeled them, and dated them. I fixed the wooden mobile—I spent four hours hand-stitching the felt cloud back onto the frame."
He opened the wooden box he had brought with him. Inside lay the wooden mobile, perfectly restored, its tiny carved stars and clouds hanging neatly from the frame.
"I re-keyed the locks on the house," Colin continued, pulling a single key out of his pocket and holding it out to me. "My mother does not have a key. She will never have a key again. I blocked her number, I blocked my aunt, and I told my family that if anyone attempts to contact you or come near our daughter, I will cut them off permanently."
I stared at the key in his trembling hand.
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"Why did you do all this, Colin?" I asked quietly.
"Because I love you," he sobbed, resting his forehead against the edge of my mattress. "And because I don't deserve you. But if you give me a chance... I will spend the rest of my life proving that I can be the husband and father you deserve."
