The request came through Julian's attorney.
He wanted an expanded parenting schedule.
The proposal included additional overnight visits and more time during the school week.
My first reaction was fear.
I thought about Maya asking whether her father was angry with her.
I remembered how carefully she watched my face when his name appeared on my phone.
I wondered what she might feel if the schedule changed before she was ready.
But I also knew that my fear could not be the only reason to oppose a request.
Maya loved her father.
The fact that our marriage was ending did not erase that relationship.
I had to be careful not to confuse protecting her from adult conflict with trying to control every part of her life.
I took the proposal to my attorney.
She read it twice.
“We need to focus on what works for Maya,” she said. “Not what either parent feels they deserve.”
“I want her to have a relationship with him.”
“Then say that. If you have specific concerns about the proposed schedule, explain those concerns and connect them to her needs.”
I thought about the school mornings, the bedtime routine, and the way Maya had been struggling with uncertainty.
I did not want to make claims I could not support.
I also did not want to agree to changes simply because Julian had presented them confidently.
My attorney asked me to write down Maya's existing routine.
I listed the time she woke up, the days she attended school, and the activities she had after class.
I included the arrangements that helped her feel settled.
I wrote down what I had personally observed about her recent worries.
I did not describe those observations as proof that Julian was harming her.
I wrote that she had expressed concern about upsetting her parents and had asked whether she was responsible for the divorce.
Those were her words as I remembered them.
The attorney suggested that the court could consider a gradual schedule, depending on the evidence and the recommendations of the professionals involved.
I agreed that it was worth discussing.
I did not want to punish Julian.
I wanted a plan that gave Maya time to adjust without making her feel that she had to choose between us.
That evening, I told Maya that the adults were working on the schedule.
She was coloring at the kitchen table.
“Does that mean I'm going to Daddy's house?”
“You already spend time with Daddy. The adults are talking about what the schedule should look like.”
“Will I have to sleep there more?”
“We don't know yet.”
She put down the crayon.
“Can I still bring my rabbit?”
“Of course.”
She looked at me as if she were waiting for more.
I could have asked whether she wanted more visits.
I could have asked whether she was afraid.
Instead, I let her lead the conversation.
“What do you like to do when you're with Daddy?” I asked.
She thought about it.
“He makes toast with the little holes in it.”
I smiled despite myself.
“Waffle toast?”
She nodded.
“And he lets me choose the music in the car.”
“What songs do you pick?”
“The silly ones.”
She began singing a line from one of the songs, and I joined her.
Then she grew quiet.
“I like those things,” she said. “I just don't like when people talk about court.”
“I understand.”
I wanted to tell her that the adults were working to make the schedule easier.
I did not want to imply that she could decide the case.
“You can enjoy your time with Daddy,” I said. “And you can tell the adults when something makes you uncomfortable. You don't have to choose one parent over the other.”
She picked up her crayon again.
I left it there.
Over the next few days, our attorneys exchanged proposals.
We discussed school-night routines, transportation, and how much notice would be given if a parent needed to change an arrangement.
The goal was to make the schedule predictable.
I insisted that important changes be communicated directly between the adults.
Maya should not have to carry messages in her backpack or remember what one parent had told the other.
Julian's side objected to some of the details.
They said I was making the arrangement too complicated.
My attorney responded that clear communication was not an attempt to restrict Julian's time.
It was a way to reduce confusion.
I did not know how Julian interpreted that.
I knew only that I could no longer rely on informal promises when the smallest disagreement could become an argument about my character.
A few days before the next hearing, Evelyn called.
I almost let it go to voicemail.
She had spent months telling me that Julian knew what was best and that I was making the family situation worse by asking questions.
I had no reason to believe that conversation would be different.
But I answered.
“I wanted to talk about Maya,” she said.
I waited.
“She has been upset.”
“I know she's been worried.”
“Julian says you're keeping her from him.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
“I'm not trying to keep her from her father. I'm asking for a schedule that gives her stability.”
“You always make everything sound so reasonable.”
The old accusation was familiar.
I felt the urge to defend myself, but I stopped.
“I want Maya to have a relationship with both of us,” I said. “I also want her to stop feeling responsible for our problems.”
Evelyn was silent.
Then she said, “She shouldn't have shown that video.”
I gripped the phone.
“She asked the judge for permission to speak. I didn't know what she was going to show.”
“You should have stopped her.”
“How could I stop something I didn't know about?”
She did not answer.
I realized we were back where we had started.
Evelyn wanted someone to blame for the discomfort the video had caused.
I was not going to accept responsibility for a recording I had not known about, and I was not going to make Maya feel guilty for asking the court for help.
“I won't discuss the recording with Maya,” I said. “And I won't ask her to explain it to me.”
“Julian is her father.”
“Yes,” I said. “He is.”
That was all I needed to say.
When the call ended, I stood by the window for a long time.
I felt angry, but underneath the anger was sadness.
I had once hoped Evelyn and I could work together to give Maya a sense of security.
Now even a conversation about the child's needs became a demand that I take responsibility for someone else's feelings.
I put the phone away.
The next morning, I met with my attorney to prepare for the hearing.
We reviewed the proposed schedule and the points that remained disputed.
She reminded me that the judge would consider the information from both parents.
I would have to accept that not every decision would be mine.
I knew that.
I was learning to distinguish between having control and having a voice.
I could not control how Julian described me.
I could not control what Evelyn believed.
I could present my concerns, support them with facts, and let the court decide.
That was enough for now.
At the hearing, Julian's attorney argued that more time with his father would strengthen Maya's relationship with him.
My attorney agreed that maintaining that relationship was important.
She then explained why a predictable transition and a clear school-night routine mattered.
The judge asked questions about the proposed schedule.
He wanted to know how transportation would work and how changes would be communicated.
He also asked whether the parents could agree not to discuss the court case with Maya.
Both attorneys said they could make that commitment.
Judge Thorne said he would consider the proposals alongside the other information before the court.
He did not make a final decision that day.
Afterward, I saw Julian standing near the courthouse steps.
He was speaking to his attorney, but when I passed, he looked at me.
“You think I'm a bad father,” he said.
I stopped.
“No,” I answered. “I think we need to make decisions that are good for Maya.”
He looked away.
I could not tell whether he believed me.
I walked to my car without saying anything else.
That evening, Maya asked if she could pack her rabbit in her small overnight bag.
“Are you going somewhere?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“I just want to know where it is.”
I helped her place the rabbit inside the bag.
Then we put the bag on the shelf in her closet.
“You can take it whenever you need it,” I told her.
She nodded.
I watched her close the closet door.
The schedule was still being decided.
The financial questions were still open.
But I could make one thing clear every day.
Maya did not have to earn our love by choosing a side.
Click here to continue reading: PART 15: The Missing Financial Explanation Was Still Missing, but I Finally Stopped Measuring My Worth by Whether Julian Admitted What He Had Done
My Husband Wanted Everything, but I Had No Idea What My Little Girl Was Carrying Into That Courtroom
Part 14 of 20
