The confession sat heavy between them, thicker than air, more suffocating than guilt alone. Pie gave the moment exactly what it needed—a moment.
Sabine’s jaw clenched as she blinked back a new wave of tears. Her voice came low, but clear. “You didn’t even want to answer your phone that night. That’s what keeps me up the most. Youchosenot to. They took my son away from me kicking and screaming. Then…my daughter…silent,” she her bottom lip quivered. “And still…but you…you…you just needed anight.”
“What you’re describing,” Pie said gently, “sounds like trauma in the deepest form. The physical trauma. The emotional rupture. And the loneliness...I hear it in every word.”
“I called him. Over and over. I left voicemails. Texted. Facetimed. Nothing.” Her throat flexed hard. “I called my sisters. Parthenia answered. Narri answered. They heard everything. I remember laying there thinking—I can’t go too. I can’t die right now, my son needs me, even though part of me wanted to.”
Adair covered his mouth, tears rising fast now. He shook his head like he could undo it all. “I didn’t know,” he whispered. “I swear to God, Sabine, I didn’t know it was happening that night.”
“You knew I was close,” she snapped. “You knew I was at the end. We’d talked about it the day before. You just…weren’t reachable. You just needed…a night.”
“Where were you?” Pie asked softly.
“Out having drinks…with…a co-wor?—”
“No,” Sabine cut him off. “Don’t minimize her down to a measly co-worker when she played such a big role in our cinema before! Say who you were with Adair!” she shouted.
“I was out with…Corrine,” he painfully admitted.
“You didn’t even answer when the hospital called! That bitch had your head so far up her ass!”
Seeing that it was once again taking an argumentative turn, Pie shifted and spoke up, “I want to acknowledge how devastating this is and not just the loss of Ariyah but the loss of being able to go through it as a team. That grief doesn’t end at the hospital. It changes everything that comes after.”
Sabine gave her a simple nod and Adair couldn’t even look her way.
“You mentioned Corrine,” Pie said, turning toward him. “I’d like us to return to that, if you’re willing.”
Adair nodded, even though he looked like he wanted to disappear. “She worked at my firm,” he said. “Sabine always had a feeling about her. She saw the way Corrine hovered. Waited after meetings. Texted late. I swore it was nothing and…in the beginning…it wasn’t.”
“It wasn’t but the second we separated, somehow thatit wasn’tturned into her on your dick pretty quickly,” Sabine scoffed.
“Yes, but I wasn’t even in my right mind baby. You left me. Took Ade and left.”
“Why did it have to be her?”
“I’m sorry…she was…she was just always fuckin’ there. Always around. I was fucked up when it happened. Can barely remember.”
“Sabine,” she said gently, “how did you experience Adair’s relationship with Corrine, especially after the loss?”
“I felt erased,” she said. “Like I didn’t even matter anymore. Like she’d been waiting her turn and finally got it. She knew who I was. Knew we weren’t divorced yet.”
“What you’re describing is betrayal that isn’t just about infidelity. “Adair,” Pie continued. “Why her? Why Corrine, knowing what she represented to Sabine?”
“Because she…she was easy,” he said honestly. “I…I was weak.”
“You were a coward.”
“Sabine. That anger is valid. You have a right to it but I want to also reflect what I hear from both of you: beneath the pain, there’s still longing. Not even simply for the relationship you had but for understanding. For truth.”
Sabine turned her head and stared at the wall. She wiped one tear. Then another. “I still don’t say her name out loud,” she whispered. “Not at home. Not around Ade. I keep her in a box in my closet. This was my first time in a very…long time…I don’t think I’ll ever forgive what happened but I want to at least stop choking on the grief every time I say her name.”
“Ariyah,” Adair said softly.
“Don’t!”
“Is that because it hurts to hear him say it?” Pie tilted her head. “Or because it reminds you he didn’t say it back then when it mattered?”
Sabine’s mouth opened. Closed then opened again.