Part 3: The Appointment

I decided Adrian could attend the next appointment if he agreed to two conditions: we would focus on the babies and my health, and any disagreement about the divorce would wait for our attorneys. He replied that he understood.

At the clinic he arrived early, carrying a paper bag. Inside was a notebook and a pen. I almost laughed at the sight of him prepared for something other than a business meeting. Then I noticed that his hands were shaking.

“I'm nervous,” he said.

“So am I.”

The doctor spoke to both of us, but she addressed questions about my body and care to me. Adrian asked about the schedule for future visits. I asked what changes I should report and how to reach the team. The answers were specific to my situation, and the doctor encouraged us to ask again whenever something was unclear.

Afterward Adrian suggested coffee. I said I needed to go home and rest. He looked disappointed, then accepted the answer. At the door he held out the paper bag.

“I bought the notebook for you,” he said. “But you already have one.”

“I can always use another.”

On the train home, I opened it. The first page contained three columns headed Questions, Appointments, and Things We Still Need. He had left the rest blank. The gesture did not repair our marriage. It did show that he was beginning to understand how much remained uncertain.

That afternoon I checked the shared account. A receipt I had uploaded the week before was marked pending. I sent a message asking whether the payment had been scheduled. Adrian replied that his assistant had missed it. I reminded him that the account was his responsibility under the agreement, regardless of who helped him use it.

He sent the payment confirmation the next morning and apologized for the delay. Priya advised me to keep records and tell her if the pattern continued. One correction did not guarantee that every future payment would arrive on time, but it gave us a clear record of what had happened.

Nia came over with groceries. We made a list of practical tasks: check the apartment's smoke detector, ask the landlord about the narrow front steps, and identify people who could help after the babies arrived. The list did not include three matching nursery sets. I had learned that a room full of boxes was not the same as a plan.

My downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Patel, offered to bring soup after appointments. She did not ask for details about Adrian or the divorce. She had raised two children in the building and knew which delivery drivers would leave packages at the wrong entrance.

That evening the landlord called about the steps. He could not promise a structural change immediately, but he agreed to inspect the loose handrail and discuss what assistance might be available for deliveries. Nia wrote the date of the inspection on the calendar.

I put Adrian's notebook beside mine. In the first column I wrote, Who can answer each question? Underneath I listed the clinic, Priya, the landlord, and the people who had offered practical help. The page was less romantic than the three names, but it made the apartment feel less like a place where I had to solve everything alone.