Chapter 15 - No More Teams
The first school event after the motion was filed was Maya’s winter assembly.
Aisha arrived early.
Derrick arrived earlier.
They saw each other across the auditorium.
For one second, both hesitated.
Then Derrick lifted a hand.
Not friendly.
Not hostile.
An acknowledgment.
Aisha sat three seats away from him.
Loretta arrived ten minutes later and chose the seat between them.
Aisha almost laughed.
“Seriously?”
Loretta looked offended.
“I came to watch my granddaughter.”
“You also came to prevent homicide.”
Derrick muttered, “Nobody’s killing anybody.”
Loretta looked at him.
“Then my work here is easy.”
For the first time in months, Aisha smiled in Derrick’s presence.
It vanished quickly.
But he saw it.
The assembly began.
Maya stood in the second row wearing a navy skirt and white blouse. When she spotted both parents, her face lit up.
Not because they were together.
Because both had come.
Aisha felt that distinction deeply.
She and Derrick did not need reconciliation.
They needed reliability.
After the performance, Maya ran toward them.
“You both came!”
“Of course,” Derrick said.
Aisha hugged her.
“You were wonderful.”
Elijah, who had spent most of the assembly whispering questions to Loretta, announced he was hungry.
“He’s always hungry,” Maya said.
“I’m growing.”
“You’ve been the same height since August.”
“That’s rude.”
Derrick laughed.
The family moved toward the lobby.
For several minutes, nothing was wrong.
Then another parent approached.
“Derrick.”
Aisha recognized him vaguely from soccer.
He shook Derrick’s hand.
“Good seeing you, man.”
Then he looked at Aisha.
Awkwardness crossed his face.
Derrick noticed.
“This is Aisha.”
“We’ve met,” she said.
The man nodded.
“Right.”
He left quickly.
Aisha watched him go.
“What did you tell people?”
Derrick stiffened.
“Not here.”
“What did you tell people?”
Loretta glanced toward the children.
“Aisha.”
She understood.
“Later.”
They ate lunch at a family restaurant because Maya asked.
The adults stayed polite.
Afterward, when Loretta took the children to the restroom, Aisha turned to Derrick.
“Answer me.”
He rubbed his thumb against the edge of the table.
“During the case, people asked why I wanted full custody.”
“And?”
“I said I had concerns.”
“What kind?”
Derrick looked away.
“What kind?”
“That you were overwhelmed.”
Aisha’s jaw tightened.
“What else?”
“That your work was unstable.”
“My work was never unstable.”
“Your schedule.”
“That is different.”
“I know.”
“What else?”
He hesitated.
“That you were emotionally unpredictable.”
Aisha stared.
“When was I emotionally unpredictable?”
“When we were separating.”
“You mean I cried?”
“You yelled.”
“Twice.”
“You threw a mug.”
Aisha became very still.
The mug.
She remembered.
One night after discovering Derrick had moved the savings, she had hurled an empty coffee mug into the kitchen sink.
It cracked.
No one else had been home.
Derrick later photographed it.
“You told people about that?”
“Some.”
“Did you tell them why?”
“No.”
“Did you tell them the children weren’t there?”
He looked down.
“No.”
Aisha’s humiliation was immediate.
Not because she was proud of throwing the mug.
She was not.
But Derrick had turned one ugly private moment into a public suggestion that she was volatile around their children.
“How many people?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Friends. A couple parents. People asked.”
“And you answered.”
“Yes.”
Loretta returned with the children before Aisha could respond.
She swallowed everything.
Lunch ended.
Outside, Derrick followed her toward the parking lot.
“Aisha.”
She opened her car door.
“I said things because I was trying to explain the case.”
“No.”
She turned.
“You were recruiting an audience.”
His face tightened.
“Maybe.”
“Did anyone hear my side?”
“No.”
“That was the point.”
He looked ashamed.
Aisha’s voice lowered.
“I can fix court papers.”
She glanced toward the restaurant.
“How do I fix whispers?”
Derrick had no answer.
She drove away.
That evening, Naomi called.
“We have the first hearing date.”
“When?”
“Three weeks.”
Aisha sat on the edge of her bed.
“Will I testify?”
“Possibly.”
“Will Derrick?”
“Almost certainly.”
“What about Loretta?”
“If needed.”
Aisha closed her eyes.
Three weeks.
The thought exhausted her.
Naomi continued.
“There is another issue. Derrick’s new attorney contacted me.”
“New attorney?”
“Rebecca Sloan.”
“So he fired Grant.”
“Apparently.”
“What does she want?”
“To discuss settlement.”
Aisha laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“Do you want to?”
“Yes.”
Naomi sounded surprised.
Aisha explained.
“I never wanted court to become the only place we could tell the truth.”
The mediation happened four days later.
Rebecca Sloan was older than Grant, quieter, and uninterested in theatrics.
She began with one sentence.
“My client is prepared to stipulate to equal parenting time.”
Naomi nodded.
“And corrective findings?”
Rebecca looked at Derrick.
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
Aisha remained still.
Rebecca slid forward a draft.
This version was more specific.
The prior characterization of Mother’s scheduling inconsistency omitted multiple instances in which Father initiated parenting-time changes.
The prior characterization of Mother’s housing instability omitted relevant financial circumstances arising from Father’s transfer of joint funds.
The prior characterization of educational involvement overstated Father’s role and understated Mother’s historical participation.
Aisha read every word.
Then reached the final paragraph.
Both parties acknowledge that Mother has consistently been a fit, loving, and capable parent.
Her eyes blurred.
She blinked quickly.
Derrick watched.
“Is that enough?” he asked.
Aisha looked at him.
“No.”
His face fell.
She tapped the paragraph.
“This says what was wrong.”
Then she pointed toward him.
“It doesn’t say why.”
Rebecca intervened.
“Aisha, motive is difficult to stipulate.”
“I’m not asking the court to call him evil.”
She looked at Derrick.
“I’m asking him to acknowledge custody became a weapon in our divorce.”
Derrick inhaled.
Naomi remained silent.
Everyone waited.
Finally Derrick said, “It did.”
Aisha’s breath caught.
Rebecca looked at him sharply.
Derrick continued.
“I was angry. I was afraid. And I wanted control.”
He looked directly at Aisha.
“I turned the case into a competition.”
No one spoke.
Then he added:
“And I should never have done that.”
Aisha lowered her eyes.
For the first time, the room did not feel divided into teams.
Then Rebecca’s phone buzzed.
She read the message and frowned.
“What?”
Derrick asked.
She looked at him.
“Grant Hale filed a lien notice related to unpaid legal fees.”
Derrick stared.
“How much?”
“Forty-three thousand dollars.”
Aisha’s eyes widened.
Derrick went pale.
Because he had already paid Grant more than sixty thousand.
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And if the new claim was accurate, the custody battle had cost nearly as much as the equity Aisha lost access to when the marriage ended.
Winning, suddenly, had a price tag.
