Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary in Rogers Park
The apartment building in Rogers Park was a three-story brick structure built in the 1920s, its fire escapes rusted and its front porch covered in a thick layer of grey, salted slush.
It was 11:30 PM when Calvin’s car pulled up to the curb. He sat in the idling vehicle for a long time, watching the faint glow of a floor lamp through the third-story window.
He looked down at the paper in his hand. It contained her current address, retrieved from an old emergency contact sheet she had filled out when she briefly worked as a volunteer for the company’s charitable foundation three years ago.
Calvin got out of the car, his designer coat entirely out of place against the weathered neighborhood. He pushed open the heavy front door, walking up three flights of creaking wooden stairs that smelled faintly of boiled cabbage and damp radiator heat.
When he reached Apartment 3B, he stopped. A handwritten cardboard sign was taped over the peephole: Please knock softly - babies sleeping.
Calvin’s breath hitched in his throat. He stood in the dimly lit hallway for nearly two minutes, his hand hovering over the wood, before he finally rapped his knuckles gently against the panel.
Silence followed. Then came the sound of deadbolts sliding back—one, two, three locks.
The door opened four inches, held by a thick brass security chain.
Aara stood in the gap. She had changed into a grey fleece sweater and dark jeans. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, dark circles lingering beneath her hazel eyes. She looked tired down to her bones, but her gaze was sharp as a razor.
"I told you not to come here, Calvin," she said, her voice a low, warning rasp.
"Aara, please," Calvin said, keeping his hands visible at his sides. "Just five minutes. You don't have to let me inside. Just talk to me through the door."
"I have nothing to say to you."
"Marcus lied to me," Calvin blurted out, the words tumbling over each other in a desperate rush. "He forged the legal papers. He made me believe you were trying to sell story to the press, that you were working with rival firms—I know that doesn't excuse what I did, I know I was a coward for believing it, but I need you to know that I didn't throw you away because I didn't care!"
Aara stared at him through the narrow gap. A bitter, mocking smile touched her lips.
"You think that makes it better?" she asked softly. "You think finding out your business partner was a crook absolves you of looking at a woman who loved you and calling her a liar? You chose to believe him, Calvin. Because believing him was easier than being a father."
Calvin flinched as if she had struck him.
"You're right," he admitted, his voice breaking. "It was easier. And it was the biggest mistake of my life. Please, Aara. Let me help. You shouldn't be riding the bus in the snow. You shouldn't be struggling alone."
"I am not struggling," she snapped, her eyes flashing with a sudden, fierce pride. "I work forty hours a week at the community health clinic. My daughters are fed, they are loved, and they are safe from people who view them as financial liabilities. We don't need your money, Calvin."
From somewhere inside the apartment, a soft, high-pitched cry broke the quiet.
Aara’s head turned instantly toward the hallway. "One of them is waking up. Leave, Calvin. If you cause a scene here, I will call the police."
"What are their names?" Calvin asked desperately before she could pull the door shut. "Please, Aara. Just tell me their names."
Aara paused, her hand gripping the edge of the door. She looked at him through the narrow crack, her eyes filled with a painful mixture of old memories and present defiance.
"Maya and Nora," she said quietly. "Maya has your stubbornness. Nora has your mother's eyes."
May you like
She pulled the door shut, and the heavy deadbolts slid back into place with three distinct, final thuds.
Calvin stood alone in the dark hallway, resting his hand against the cold wood of the door, listening to the soft sound of Aara humming a lullaby to his daughter on the other side.
