Chapter 8 - Less Necessary
Nia could hear the refrigerator motor.
The air vent.
A cartoon playing faintly upstairs.
Nothing else.
Marcus looked as though he wanted to pull the words back into his mouth.
Nia stared.
“What did you say?”
“I didn’t mean it like it sounded.”
“How did you mean it?”
Marcus stood.
“I wasn’t plotting.”
“You just told me you thought another baby would make marriage less necessary.”
“I meant we already have a family.”
“That is not what you said.”
“I meant if we focused on what’s good between us instead of what we don’t have—”
“A baby.”
“Nia.”
“You wanted me pregnant so I would stop asking about marriage?”
“No.”
“Then explain the sentence.”
Marcus paced toward the sink.
His shoulders were tense.
“I’ve felt like everything lately becomes about a deadline.”
“A deadline?”
“Proposal. Wedding. Your career. The house. Every conversation feels like something I’m failing.”
Nia’s mouth opened.
“So your solution was another child?”
“I love being a father.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I thought it would bring us closer.”
She stared at him.
“Closer than three children?”
He had none.
Nia pressed her hand against her forehead.
Every pregnancy had tied their lives more tightly.
Not maliciously.
Not legally.
Practically.
Another maternity leave.
Another daycare calculation.
Another year before returning seriously to her career.
Another reason not to disturb the household.
Nia’s stomach turned.
“Did you think I’d be less likely to leave?”
Marcus’s eyes flashed.
“I never thought you were leaving.”
“Answer.”
“I don’t know.”
“That means yes.”
“No, it means I never sat around calculating it.”
“Marcus, you calculated a prenup.”
He closed his eyes.
Nia’s voice dropped.
“You calculated a refinance.”
Silence.
“You calculated life insurance.”
Silence.
“You calculated business ownership.”
Silence.
“But somehow the only place you never calculated consequences was my life.”
Marcus looked at her.
“I’m sorry.”
It was the first clean apology since the argument began.
Nia almost hated that it mattered.
“You should be.”
“I didn’t understand how it looked.”
“It isn’t about how it looks.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I’m done translating.”
She walked upstairs.
In the bedroom, she closed the door and cried so quietly no one heard.
Not because Marcus did not love her.
That would almost have been simpler.
He loved her.
He wanted her.
He wanted their children.
He wanted breakfast at the kitchen island, family vacations, Christmas photographs, warm bodies beside him when he grew old.
He simply wanted those things structured around his security.
Nia’s security had always been assumed to be Marcus himself.
By noon, she had made a decision.
Not about leaving.
Not yet.
About information.
She called a family-law attorney.
“Cynthia Bell’s office.”
Nia swallowed.
“I’d like to schedule a consultation.”
“Divorce?”
“No.”
A pause.
Nia forced herself to say it.
“We aren’t married.”
The receptionist’s tone remained professional.
“Property or custody?”
“Possibly both.”
When Nia ended the call, she sat on the bed staring at the engagement-ring advertisement.
A diamond she had once imagined as proof that she had finally been chosen.
It seemed embarrassingly small now.
That evening Marcus cooked.
Chicken.
Rice.
Green beans.
He helped Ava with fractions.
He bathed Micah.
He kissed each child goodnight.
Then he found Nia in the kitchen.
“I talked to Derrick.”
She stiffened.
“I told him not to contact me about us again.”
Nia looked at him.
“Okay.”
“And I told my mother.”
“About what?”
“That I handled things wrong.”
“What did she say?”
Marcus hesitated.
“That she warned me this could happen.”
Nia almost laughed.
“Of course.”
“She thinks I should propose.”
Nia’s expression changed.
Marcus quickly added, “I told her that would be insulting right now.”
For once, he had understood.
Nia nodded.
“Good.”
Marcus leaned against the counter.
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Do you still love me?”
Her eyes burned.
“Yes.”
His shoulders loosened slightly.
Nia hated that too.
“And that is not enough.”
The relief disappeared.
She continued.
“I have an appointment with a lawyer Monday.”
Marcus straightened.
“A lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“To understand my situation.”
“What situation?”
Nia stared at him.
“My life, Marcus.”
His face hardened again.
“So you’re preparing to take me to court.”
“No.”
“You just said lawyer.”
“I’m getting information.”
“You could ask me.”
Nia almost smiled.
“I did.”
Marcus went quiet.
Nia picked up the daycare bill.
“I need to know what happens if this relationship ends. Where I stand with the house. What custody looks like. What money is mine. What isn’t.”
“You’re really doing this.”
“Yes.”
He looked almost betrayed.
And Nia finally understood something remarkable.
Marcus believed seeking protection meant she was threatening the family.
But when he sought protection, he called it responsibility.
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She met his eyes.
“Now we both get paperwork.”
