Part 2: A Room for Questions

I showed the photograph to Nia. Three unopened boxes stood against a white wall. There was no scale in the picture, and I could not tell whether the room had enough space for the cribs or whether the models met current safety guidance.

“Ask your care team what information you need,” Nia said. “And ask Adrian for the model numbers.”

I sent a short reply through the shared account. I thanked Adrian for thinking about the babies and asked him to keep the boxes closed until we had checked the details. He responded with the model numbers and a question about mattresses. This time neither of us mentioned the divorce.

At my next prenatal appointment, I brought a page of questions. My doctor reviewed my care plan, explained which symptoms should prompt a call, and reminded me that a triplet pregnancy could require changes as it progressed. She did not promise a particular delivery date. She gave me a number to call if I was uncertain, even after hours.

I asked about arranging the babies' sleeping spaces. The clinic offered general safe-sleep information and suggested I discuss specific products with the appropriate child safety resources. I wrote down the recommendations without pretending I could memorize everything at once.

My work as a freelance editor continued in short blocks between appointments. One client asked whether I could take a larger project before the end of the month. I wanted the income, but I looked at my calendar before answering. I offered a smaller scope with a clear deadline and referred the remaining work to a colleague.

Adrian and I had once built schedules together on the floor of our first apartment. He had been starting a technology company, and I edited proposals after my own workday. We celebrated the first paid contract with takeout and a secondhand table. Success came later, followed by longer absences and conversations that became shorter each time I asked where we were going.

The marriage ended after we agreed that living apart was necessary. Adrian had begun seeing someone else before our separation was fully resolved, and the public attention around his company made the private hurt harder to carry. I did not want our children to inherit a story in which either parent had to be erased.

Priya called to confirm that the signed agreement had been filed and explained what would happen next. She reminded me that the medical payment provisions were in force according to the agreement, but any disagreement should be raised through the documented process. I appreciated her careful language. I was tired of people promising that everything would be simple.

That evening Adrian uploaded a photograph of a crib label and the product information. He had also written, I can return them if they're wrong. I almost replied that he should have asked before buying anything. Instead I sent the links the clinic had suggested and asked him to check the same information with a qualified source.

He answered, I'll do that tomorrow.

Then another message appeared: Can I attend the next appointment, if you want me there?

I sat with the question. His presence might help him understand the care plan. It might also make an already demanding appointment more difficult. I did not owe him an immediate answer. I wrote, Let me think about it, and closed the notebook for the night.