Vows in the Wind

For five years, we tried. Twelve rounds of IVF. Finally, Nicholas and I had our child.

The day he was born, Nicholas, always so composed, broke down in tears. He gripped my hand, his voice thick with emotion. Annette, I'll spend the rest of my life making this up to you. You and our boy... you're my everything now.

He held our son with a reverence I'd never seen, hesitating before daring to touch the babys soft cheek. "We'll call him Max," he whispered. "For a life filled to the absolute maximum with joy and peace."

That was before his first loves daughter was diagnosed with kidney failure.

"Lily is a prodigy," he'd said, his voice strained. "She's destined to be a world-class painter. We can't let her health stand in her way."

Then he was on his knees in front of me, stripped of all his pride, his voice a desperate plea. "Annette, I checked. Max is a perfect match for Lily. Please... just let him give her one of his kidneys. Please?"

...

Nicholas was a man defined by his pride. He never bowed his head for anyone or anything. Even when he proposed, he hadn't asked. He'd simply tossed a ring box at me and said, "Marry me. You won't regret it."

But now, for Claires daughter, he was on his knees, as pathetic as a stray dog begging for scraps.

In the sweltering summer heat, an icy chill spread through my bones.

I closed my eyes, the world spinning. "Nicholas, do you have any idea what you're saying?"

A tiny, foolish part of me held out hope. If he would just say it was a moment of madness, that he didn't mean it, I could forgive him. We could pretend this conversation never happened.

But Nicholas remained silent, his jaw set. He took a deep breath, his resolve hardening. "I know it's a lot to ask, but people can live perfectly normal lives with just one kidney."

When I didn't answer, his voice turned to steel. "If you won't agree, then I'll have to remind you that I am also Max's legal guardian. I have the right to sign the consent forms."

The air left my lungs. A wave of grief and fury so powerful it almost knocked me over washed through me. "Absolutely not," I choked out, the words tasting like poison.

He reached out, his expression pained, and tried to stroke my hair. "Annette, don't make this difficult."

I flinched away, hammering my fists against his chest. "You said we were your everything!" I sobbed. "The day Max was born, you promised! Nicholas, that was only three years ago!"

I collapsed against him, my fight draining away. "There has to be another way, right? Medicine is so advanced now. Can't they just wait? Maybe another donor will come along. Please."

A flicker of sorrow crossed his face. "If there were any other option, of course I wouldn't want Max to"

His phone rang. He glanced at the screen: Claire. Without a second's hesitation, he pushed me away and answered.

Claire was hysterical on the other end. "Nicholas, Lily's back in the ICU! I'm here all alone, I don't know what to do..."

The tenderness on Nicholas's face vanished, replaced by sheer panic.

He grabbed his car keys and bolted for the door, not even looking back. "We can't wait any longer," he threw over his shoulder, his voice cold and final. "Don't worry. I'll perform the surgery myself. I'll make sure both children are safe."

Max, who had just woken up from his nap, toddled after him, calling out, "Daddy, where go? Max go too!"

Nicholas didn't even glance back. He let Max stumble and fall on the front steps, his cries echoing in the sudden silence of the house.

In that moment, my heart turned to ice.

I wiped my tears, scooped up my wailing son, and sent Nicholas a text.

"I want a divorce."

Nicholas didn't reply. He came home late that night, laden with toys and candy, and Claire was trailing behind him.

Before I could stop him, Max had already run into his father's arms.

Nicholas smiled, handing Max a brightly colored plastic toy. "Do you like it? Daddy and Auntie Claire picked it out just for you. And look, your favorite snacks."

He settled Max on his lap, tore open a bag of candy, and popped a piece into our son's mouth. Max, having already forgotten the morning's abandonment, snuggled against his father's chest, giggling happily.

I watched them, a cold knot tightening in my stomach. Max adored his father, even more than he did me. And this man, this father, was willing to carve a kidney out of his own son.

It was Claire who nudged him, reminding him of my presence. Nicholas looked up and pulled a necklace from his pocket. "It's a wishbone, Annette. For you. From now on, whatever you wish for, I'll make it happen."

I stared at him, my expression unreadable, and pushed his hand away. "My only wish is for you to call off this donation."

He looked down, mumbling something under his breath. "Annette, do you think this is easy for me? Max is my flesh and blood. But I've watched Lily grow up, too. I can't just let her die."

"Nicholas, let it go," Claire whispered, her eyes welling up. "It was my fault. I was impulsive to even suggest that Max could help Lily. I've caused nothing but trouble for your family. It's all my fault." She bowed her head, shoulders shaking with silent sobs, the very picture of tragic beauty.

Watching her tears splash onto the polished floor, Nicholas's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white.

"How could this be your fault?" he said, his voice fierce. "Even if you hadn't said anything, I would have offered."

The intimacy between them was a physical pain, a blade twisting in my gut. I took a deep breath to keep from screaming.

The tension in the room made Max start to cry, but Nicholas only had eyes for Claire, his gaze full of pity and protection.

The blood in my veins ran cold.

Before I married Nicholas, I knew he had a childhood sweetheart. When I'd hesitated about our future, he'd sworn to me that he and Claire were just friends, that she would never come between us.

Lies. All of it.

When Claire went into labor, Nicholas abandoned a career-making international conference to be by her side.

The day Lily was born, Nicholas, a man who scoffed at sentimentality, went to a high-end auction and bought a custom-made pink diamond tiara as a welcome-to-the-world gift for another man's child.

The moment Lily showed a flicker of interest in art, he pulled strings to have the country's most renowned painter take her on as a private student.

And my Max? When he was born, all he got was a small, silver locket. Two days later, his father volunteered for a medical mission in Africa and was gone for a month.

He claimed to love us, to love me and Max above all else, but he always, always put Claire and her daughter first.

For years I had lied to myself, pretending not to see. But I couldn't lie anymore.

Max was still holding the cheap toy Nicholas had brought, the cloyingly sweet candy still in his mouth. He never liked things like this, but because it was from his father, he treasured it.

"Max, spit that out," I said softly. "You don't have to eat it if you don't like it."

"That's enough, Annette!" Nicholas snapped. "If you have a problem with me and Claire, say it to my face! Don't take it out on our son! What kind of mother are you?"

Even now, he was defending her.

"If our Max had kidney failure, Claire and Lily would donate in a heartbeat! Annette, you can't be this selfish!"

"Don't say that, Nicholas," Claire sobbed, pressing herself against his chest. "Just pretend you never knew me. Pretend Lily and I don't exist."

Nicholas's eyes were glacial as he glared at me. "We've been married for years, and it's only now that I see how cold and heartless you truly are."

A memory surfaced, sharp and painful. Our honeymoon in Hawaii. In the middle of it, Claire got divorced.

She posted a single sad selfie on Instagram, and Nicholas, without a word to me, booked the next flight back to comfort her. He stayed by her side for two weeks.

While I walked alone on beaches crowded with happy couples, Claire's feed was full of pictures of the "World's Best Friend," featuring Nicholas in her kitchen, making her heart-shaped pancakes.

While I sat by myself under a palm tree, her story was a picture of Nicholas's profile in a darkened movie theater, captioned, "The secret from when we were eighteen."

For two weeks, I woke up every morning and scrolled through her life, my tears falling until I was just numb. But I still trusted him. I still believed him.

Watching the undisguised tenderness in his eyes as he held Claire, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. "So, if we had gotten married just a little later, you would have called it off and married her instead, wouldn't you?"

Crack.

The sting of his palm against my cheek exploded across my face. Nicholass eyes were bloodshot with fury. "Yes, I was in love with Claire. That's not a secret. But I gave up a world of memories with her for you! Isn't that enough? Why do you have to say things like that just to hurt me?"

His cruel words were a knife, carving out my heart. The tears I had held back for so long finally broke free, streaming down my face.

When I looked up at him again, there was nothing left in my eyes. No love, no pain. Just emptiness. "No," I said, my voice hollow. "You don't have to give up anything. From now on, you will never see me or Max again."

I scooped Max into my arms and turned to leave. But Nicholas blocked my path. "You can go," he said, his voice dangerously low. "But Max stays."

My lips parted, but all that came out was a broken, mirthless laugh. "Nicholas, do you really have to be so cruel?"

He didn't answer. In one swift movement, he snatched Max from my arms and shoved me so hard I fell to the floor.

He handed our crying son to Claire. "Take him and go! Now!"