They Came Back To No Home Chapter 06

They Came Back To No Home Chapter 06

Text after text came through–my phone vibrated so relentlessly it grew warm, the nightstand rattling with every buzz.

[Melody, let me explain.]

[Melody, I was wrong. Please answer the phone, okay?]

[Melody, Tanya needs a father. Do you really have the heart to do this?]

[Melody, I’m begging you, please.]

I didn’t reply to a single one. I turned the phone facedown on the table.

Tanya was crying in her crib, her small face flushed red.

I picked her up, fed her, changed her diaper, and patted her back gently.

The phone kept vibrating, buzzing its way under my skin.

By evening, Peyton cornered me at the doorway of my new apartment.

Through the peephole, I saw him–hair disheveled, white shirt wrinkled beyond saving, dark hollows under his

eyes, and a shadow of stubble darkening his jaw.

He pressed the doorbell, one relentless ring after another.

I opened the door but didn’t let him inside.

With a thud, he dropped straight to his knees at the doorway.

His knees slammed against the floor tiles with a terrifying thud, making the entire hallway shudder.

“Melody, I’m a bastard; I’m scum. You can hit me or curse at me, anything you want.”

“But Tanya is only half a month old. Are you really going to let her grow up without a father?”

I looked down at him and said flatly, “After returning from Europe, the first thing you did wasn’t to see your

daughter, but to ask me what happened to the apartment.”

His mouth opened, but no words came out.

I stared straight into his eyes. “Do you even remember what Tanya looks like?”

His shoulders caved. He braced himself with both hands on the floor, his head sinking lower and lower until

his forehead nearly touched the ground.

It took him a long moment before he managed to choke out, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” I cut him off. “You don’t get to say that word.”

He snapped his head up, tears and fury burning in his eyes.

“Melody, what on earth do you want from me? Is getting down on my knees for you still not enough?”

“I want you to vanish from my sight.”

I took a step back and pulled the door shut.

The latch clicked shut softly.

Through the door, he was still shouting, his voice raspy and desperate.

“Melody! I beg you! Just let me see my daughter!”

I didn’t open the door.

The next day, he changed his attitude completely.

Message after message came through, his pleas slowly curdling into threats.

[You sold the apartment without my consent, and I’m going to sue you. It’s marital joint property–you won’t

get away with this.]

[I’m fighting for custody of my daughter.]

[A woman with postpartum depression and emotional instability–the court will never side with you.]

[Expect a summons.]

I stared at that last line, my fingers turning cold.

Postpartum depression.

He’d actually pin that on me.

I sent him back one line: [You’ve barely held our daughter since she was born–and you think you can fight me for her?]

I blocked him right after.

On the other side, Rylie was losing it too.

She was trying to use the shared card in Europe, but transaction after transaction failed to go through.

Hotel room fees, Michelin restaurants, luxury goods for her parents–none of them went through.

She called Peyton, her voice piercingly sharp, vibrating through the receiver.

“Peyton, what’s going on with the card? Why isn’t it working?”

“Get that apartment back, do you hear me? It’s ours!”

Peyton’s voice sounded raspy and agitated.

“The place was hers–what right do I have to claim it?”

“I don’t care whose it was! You promised me yourself that the apartment would be our future home!”

“You can’t even provide a roof over our heads–you’re such a loser!”

“I was truly blind–wasting all that time on you.”

The phone was slammed shut.

A loud bang echoed through the line.

That evening, Paige sent over a text message:

[HR has officially opened a case. Peyton’s suspended, pending investigation.]

I stared at the word “suspended” and let out a slow breath.

The anger that had been burning inside me was beginning to fade.

News of Peyton’s suspension reached Rylie too.

Panicking, she began causing drama.

On her social media feed, post after post popped up:

[There are people out there who’ll have the baby, toss out the husband and his mom, take the house, and act

like they’re the injured party. No heart, no shame.]

[Fair warning to everyone: know who you’re marrying. Don’t end up with someone who’ll turn on you the second it suits them.]

[Divorce isn’t the worst part. The worst part is a woman who takes everything, drains you dry, and then plays the victim like you were the villain.]

Underneath, surprisingly, sat a few likes.