Chapter 47:
The Empty Chair

The warm aroma of homemade lasagna filled the small, cozy kitchen - layers of pasta, rich tomato sauce, and melted cheese bubbling gently in the oven. Kathalina moved about the space with quiet contentment, chopping fresh vegetables for the salad, her knife moving steadily against the wooden board. Every now and then, she glanced toward the living room, where Ethan lay sprawled across the rug, his eyes glued to the television, laughing at his favorite cartoon characters.

This was it, she told herself. This was the life she had dreamed of for so long - a home, a family, the man she loved walking through the door any minute now. Her heart felt light, hopeful, fuller than it had been in years. She thought about the night before - how they had sat at this very table, talking and laughing just like they used to back in college. For the first time since he'd come back, it truly felt like they belonged together. Like maybe, finally, everything would be alright.

"Mom?"

She looked up, setting the knife down gently. Ethan stood in the doorway, one small hand rubbing his tummy, his big eyes hopeful.

"Yes, my love?"

"I'm hungry," he admitted with a little pout that made her smile.

Kathalina checked the clock on the wall - quarter to eight. Harry usually arrived around eight.

"I know, baby. But let's wait just a little longer for Dad, okay? We'll all eat together as a family."

Ethan nodded obediently, though his shoulders slumped just a little, and he wandered back to his spot in front of the TV. Kathalina watched him go, a soft smile touching her lips. He's such a good boy. He deserves a father who shows up.

Eight o'clock came and went. Then nine. Then half past nine.

She told herself not to worry. Work ran late sometimes. He was building an empire, after all. Important meetings kept him overtime. She picked up her phone, checked the screen - no messages, no missed calls - and set it back down, her chest tightening with a quiet unease that refused to settle.

By the time the grandfather clock in the hallway struck midnight, her worry had hardened into something heavier. She walked into the living room and knelt beside Ethan.

"Why don't we go ahead and eat, sweetheart? Dad must be very busy tonight."

He beamed anyway, scrambling onto his chair. "Yay! Lasagna!"

They sat across from each other at the wooden dining table. Kathalina served him a generous slice, but her own portion sat untouched on her plate. Every few minutes, her eyes drifted to the empty chair beside her - the one she had set carefully with a napkin folded just so, the one that waited for him.

Where are you, Harry?

Her mind began to wander down dark, familiar paths. What if this is it? What if he's gone again? What if I was never really anything more to him than a place to rest when the world got too heavy?

And then the memory came - sharp and vivid, refusing to be pushed away.



Flashback - Four Years Ago

The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and old linens. Kathalina opened her eyes slowly, her head throbbing, and it took her a moment to remember why she was there. She remembered the shouting. Olivia's face, twisted with anger and hurt. The stinging slap across her cheek. The words that still echoed in her ears: He was never yours. He was always mine.

And then she remembered the one message that had kept her going all those lonely nights - I'll come for you. Just wait for me. She had believed him. She had waited. But he had never come.

"You're pregnant."

Her mother's voice cut through the silence like a knife. Kathalina turned to see her standing in the doorway, her face pale, her eyes cold with disapproval.

"I... what?"

"You heard me. Don't play dumb with me." Her mother stepped closer, her voice rising. "Who is the father?"

Kathalina trembled, her hands instinctively folding over her stomach. "It's... it's Harry, Mom."

The sound that left her mother's throat was half gasp, half scoff. Then - the slap. Hard, stinging, burning against her skin.

"When did you become this kind of girl? I didn't raise you to be someone's secret!" Her mother shook her head, tears of anger streaming down her face. "He was her fiancé. Her fiancé. And you knew that. You knew all along and you didn't care."

"I didn't mean to... I didn't want to..." Kathalina sobbed, but her mother wasn't listening.

"You have no shame." She took a step back, as if standing too close made her dirty too. "From today on, you are not my daughter. I don't want to see your face again. Don't come looking for me. Don't ask for money. Don't ask for anything. You made your bed - now lie in it."

And with that, she walked out. The door clicked shut. The footsteps faded down the hallway. And Kathalina was left alone - no family, no home, no money, and a tiny, precious life growing inside her that she had no idea how to take care of.



Present Day

"Mommy? Why are you crying?"

Ethan's soft voice pulled her back. She blinked, realizing hot tears were rolling silently down her cheeks. She quickly brushed them away, forcing a bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I'm not crying, baby. I'm just... very happy. That's all."

He grinned, taking another bite. "It's delicious, Mommy. The best lasagna ever."

"Thank you, love."

They finished their meal together, Kathalina listening with half her heart as Ethan chattered about his friends at school, his teacher, the games they played during recess. But the other half of her kept drifting toward the door, toward the quiet hallway, toward the phone that remained silent on the table.

It was one-thirty in the morning when Ethan finally fell asleep on the couch, his head resting against a cushion, his breathing soft and even. Kathalina covered him with a blanket and kissed his forehead gently before returning to the dining room.

She stood by the window, watching the empty street outside. The lasagna was cold now. The salad wilted. The candle she had lit hours ago had burned down to nothing but a pool of hardened wax.

And the chair across from her remained empty.

She sank into it finally, resting her elbows on the table, her face in her hands.

I can do this on my own, she told herself, her voice trembling in the quiet darkness. I did it before. I can do it again.

But her heart whispered the truth she was too afraid to say out loud:

I just didn't think I'd have to.