The professional looked up.
— Pardon ?
Claire recounted.
Not the family drama.
The facts.
Prolonged standing.
The inaccessible armchair.
The night was almost restless.
The constant tension.
The examination revealed more inflammation than expected. Nothing catastrophic, but enough to require closer monitoring and further treatment.
The midwife noted in the file that the prescribed postoperative rest could not be observed due to an unplanned family gathering.
Claire remained silent as she read the sentence.
On paper, this evening suddenly ceased to be “a party that had gone wrong”.
It had a medical consequence.
A few days later, a lactation consultant asked her another question.
— Were breastfeeding sessions disrupted at the beginning? Lots of handling, visits, noise?
Claire immediately thought of the sheet from the refrigerator.
At 4 o’clock time slots.
To that cousin who had started to undo the baby carrier before even actually asking permission.
– Yes.
Louise was gaining weight, but the first few days had been chaotic. The consultant explained that an accumulation of stress, fatigue, and interruptions could complicate the establishment of breastfeeding.
Once again, the word used was simple:
Protect.
Protect the rest.
Protect breastfeeding.
Protect during the first few days.
Claire returned home with Louise and found Mathieu sitting on the front steps.
His elbows were on his knees.
“My mother called me,” he said.
— About what?
— Dad says you want to stop him from seeing Louise.
Claire slowly placed the baby carrier down.
— And what did you answer him?
Mathieu remained silent.
His silence was no longer exactly the same as it had been the night of the party. He wasn’t looking for an excuse. He was clearly looking for something more difficult: an answer that wouldn’t betray anyone.
But Claire had understood that, in certain situations, not betraying anyone meant abandoning the one who was already suffering from the problem.
— Mathieu, I’m going to ask you a question.
He looked up.
— Do you think your father has the right to organize a party at our house despite my refusal?
— Non.
— Did he have the right to film my return from maternity leave?
— Non.
— To use Louise’s photo to ask for money?
— Non.
— So why is it that every time he complains, you still try to find a middle ground?
Mathieu did not reply.
Claire enters.
That evening, she looked for the number of a lawyer specializing in family law.
She didn’t want a divorce.
The idea even frightened him.
But a thought had taken root in his mind: today, Louise was a few weeks old. One day, she would be 3 years old, then 8. If Gérard continued to consider every parental decision as negotiable, what would happen when the issues became more serious than a party?
The lawyer, Maître Camille Roussel, listened to Claire for almost an hour.
Then she said:
— For now, what you’re describing mainly concerns family boundaries that haven’t been respected. But you’re right to keep the evidence.
— Do you think I’m being dramatic?
— No. I think we need to distinguish between emotion and facts. And your facts are quite simple.
She listed them.
A meeting organized at home without any real agreement.
Dissemination of images without consent.
Using a baby’s image for a fundraising campaign.
Documented medical consequences.
“You don’t need to threaten anyone,” she added. “You need the rules to be impossible to bend.”
She proposed a clear, family-friendly letter, free of aggressive jargon.
No group visits without prior agreement.
No additional guests.
No posts by Louise without parental permission.
No fundraising, no events, no announcements made in their name.
Claire read the document that same evening.
Then she placed it in front of Mathieu.
— I don’t want to send this alone.
He scanned the two pages.
— Do you want me to sign?
— I want to know if these are also your limits.
Mathieu remained seated for a long time.
— What if Dad stops talking to me?
The question came out almost like a child’s.
Claire felt something tighten inside her.
She understood at that moment that Mathieu had never really learned to say no to his father.
He had learned to find a way around it.
To be minimized.
He sometimes lied, as he had done before the party, to avoid an immediate argument.
“Then it will be his choice,” she replied.
Mathieu put down the letter.
He did not sign that evening.
And Claire understood that nothing was fixed yet.
Five weeks after Louise’s birth, her stepmother, Sylvie, suddenly sent her three screenshots.
No greeting.
Only :
“You know about that???”
Claire opened the pictures.
Gérard had created a family discussion group from which she was absent.
He was preparing a “welcome day for Louise’s 1 month old”.
At Claire and Mathieu’s.
The following Saturday.
Catering arranged.
About twenty people were invited.
And a message:
“This time, we’ll do a proper live stream for those who couldn’t enjoy the first one.”
Claire felt her stomach clench.
No explosive rage.
Something colder.
She called Mathieu to work.
— Your father is starting again.
He did not ask:
“What did he do?”
He asked:
— At our place?
– Yes.
Silence.
Then :
— Is he serious?
— The caterer is booked.
Mathieu swore under his breath.
Claire watched Louise sleeping in the baby carrier.
— You have until tonight.
– For what ?
— To send mail with your name on it.
He fell silent.
— This isn’t an ultimatum against your father, Mathieu. It’s an answer to a question between you and me.
— What question?
— Are you capable of protecting our family when the person crossing the line is your own?
At 6:46 p.m., Claire was sitting in the living room when her phone vibrated.
Mathieu had sent him a screenshot.
The letter had been sent.
But he hadn’t just signed the lawyer’s.
He had added a paragraph.
