Chapter 10: Counting Differently
The weeks settled into a narrower, steadier rhythm.
Beate measured time by clinic visits and the gradual shift of the baby lower in her body. Dr. Richter remained direct and unsentimental: blood pressure acceptable, growth on track, no signs of delayed trauma to the pregnancy. The bruises on Beate’s back faded from purple to yellow to the dull memory of pressure. She still moved carefully. She no longer counted strikes. She counted days until the estimated birth and the appointments that stood between them.
May you like
Kommissarin Brenner’s updates grew less frequent as the case moved from immediate protection into formal preparation. Gero complied with the order in the minimal way the law required—no calls, no appearances, no messages routed through acquaintances. His silence was not remorse. It was calculation. Thomas treated it as irrelevant. The perimeter did not depend on the other man’s feelings.
In the small house Beate relearned ordinary tasks without the old undercurrent of evaluation. She folded laundry. She walked the garden path. She sat with Julia in the evenings and spoke of the baby’s possible names without first checking whether the choice would be permitted. Thomas listened more than he spoke. When he did speak it was practical: the hospital bag, the route to the maternity wing, the name of the midwife who had been briefed on the protection order.
