I continued in German.
“I understand that Sophie is almost five months pregnant.”
Julian’s chair shifted.
“Claire.”
I looked at him.
“I understand that you told everyone you planned to hide it from me.”
“Claire, please.”
“I understand your mother believes my infertility makes me convenient.”
Helga whispered my name.
I turned toward her.
“And I understood you last week when you said you would make me raise the baby.”
Nobody laughed this time.
Julian switched to English.
“How long have you understood German?”
“Long enough.”
“How long?”
“Does that matter?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Are you trying to calculate how many lies I heard?”
His face tightened.
“You’re misunderstanding things.”
I laughed.
It was the first genuinely amused sound I had made in days.
“Which language would you prefer to explain them in?”
Marta looked down.
Dieter muttered, “Julian.”
Helga reached toward me.
“Claire, what I said was tasteless.”
“Yes.”
“But we were talking hypothetically.”
“You were talking about my life.”
“We didn’t know the whole situation.”
“You knew enough.”
Julian stood.
“Can we go home and talk privately?”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
He stared at me.
“You’re making a scene.”
That sentence almost amazed me.
His ex-girlfriend was pregnant.
His family had spent weeks discussing how to manage me.
But speaking aloud was the scene.
I looked around the table.
“Actually, I think the scene happened before I arrived.”
Marta covered her mouth.
Helga glared at her.
Julian lowered his voice.
“We need to discuss this as husband and wife.”
I looked at him.
“I agree.”
He relaxed slightly.
“Good.”
“But not tonight.”
His expression hardened again.
“Where are you going?”
“I booked a hotel.”
“You what?”
I had packed a small suitcase that afternoon and left it in my car.
Nothing dramatic.
Three days of clothes.
Medication.
Laptop.
Important documents.
Enough.
Julian looked stunned.
“You planned this?”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Since Sophie called me.”
The room went silent again.
Julian’s face changed.
“Sophie called you?”
“Yes.”
He looked toward Marta.
Marta did not look away.
“You gave her Claire’s number?”
“Yes.”
“What the hell, Marta?”
She finally looked at him.
“Don’t you dare make me the problem.”
That was the first useful thing anyone in that family had said all evening.
Julian turned back to me.
“What did Sophie tell you?”
I looked at him for several seconds.
“Enough.”
He stepped toward me.
“Claire, listen.”
“No. You’ve had fourteen months to talk.”
His face drained again.
Sophie had given me the timeline.
He understood immediately.
“You don’t know everything.”
“I know you told her our marriage was essentially over.”
“It was complicated.”
“I know you told her I knew about your relationship.”
“I can explain that.”
“I know you told her I might help raise the baby.”
“That was never the plan.”
“Your mother seemed to think it was.”
Helga stood.
“I never said Claire would have no choice.”
I turned toward her.
“That is not the defense you think it is.”
Dieter looked away.
Julian rubbed both hands over his face.
“I made mistakes.”
“Mistakes?”
“I handled things badly.”
“No, Julian. You handled them carefully.”
That stopped him.
“You lied to me carefully. You lied to Sophie carefully. You lied about where she lived. You lied about business trips. You came home from seeing her and went with me to fertility appointments.”
His eyes filled.
I felt nothing yet.
That scared me more than tears would have.