I’m driving to the Charles de Gaulle Airport with Uma in the front seat. Her two roller bags are in the trunk, and her huge backpack is on the back seat. Sam stayed at home with Colette at Uma’s insistence. She wanted to spare him the long trip in congested traffic, so they said their goodbyes right after breakfast. The little man hugged her. He cried and asked her not to leave. Uma cried too. For a moment there, I allowed myself to hope she would change her mind.

But after she wiped her and Sam’s eyes and helped him blow his nose, she just kissed his cheeks and said she was sorry.

Then Colette arrived, acting all jittery. It’s no wonder. She’s never been alone with our son before. When she agreed to babysit him, I explained exactly what to do in the unlikely event Sam has a seizure.

But Colette doesn’t think she’s ready, and I no longer think she’ll ever be.

At some point last night when I was hugging Uma to my chest between two bouts of desperate lovemaking, a lightbulb went off in my head. For the last few months, I had obsessed that Sam shouldn’t grow up knowing his mother rejected him. I had worn my obsession like a blindfold. I was all too quick and too eager to believe Colette had discovered maternal love and wished to become part of her son’s life.

That was never her intention.

All she ever did since she dropped her initial hint about second chances was to try to spend time with me. Poor Sam! His mother clearly doesn’t need his love. She isn’t looking for redemption. She’s out to seduce her ex who’s grown considerably richer since she left him.

I’m done encouraging her.

As far as I’m concerned, she can go jump off a cliff.

A scene flashes in my mind’s eye. This morning when Uma was packing a few remaining items upstairs, Sam and I hung out in the kitchen. He gave me a look full of such desperation that I picked him up.

“What is it, buddy?”

“I don’t want Uma to go.” His big eyes began to water.

“You always knew she’d be gone by Christmas.”

He choked back a sob. “Why can’t she stay? Daddy, please, can you ask her to stay?”

I stroked his soft cheek. “Mommy will be here soon. You can ask her to read you the same books Uma read for you. And she can play the same games with you if you teach her.”

“She won’t.” Sam sniffled. “I want Uma. Why can’t she stay?”

Why, indeed?

I ask Uma that exact question at the bustling Terminal 2C just before she checks in her luggage.

“We’ve been over this, Zach,” she says. “I won’t have you and Noah pay so much money to make my staying in France possible.”

“There’s another solution.”

She puts her hands on her hips and arches an eyebrow.

I stare into her eyes. “You could marry me.”

“What?”

“Marry me.” I smile, trying to make light. “That way, no one will have to pay anything, and you’ll get an EU residency permit.”

She blinks.

“And I’ll get to keep you in my bed,” I add.

She surveys my face for a long moment. “How is fake marriage with you better than arranged marriage with Giriraj?”

“It won’t be fake.”

Uma presses her palms to her eyes.

Will she say yes?

My heart races, and my hands are clammy with sweat. I don’t think I’ve felt so anxious in my entire life.

“What about Colette?” she asks. “Weren’t you giving her a second chance, welcoming her back into Sam’s life?”

“I was,” I say. “But I no longer will.”

“I don’t want your sacrifices.”

“What sacrifices? It’s you who’d be making a sacrifice if you marry a single dad with a sick kid.”

“I love Sam,” she says, “with all my heart—”

A uniformed airport employee plants himself next to us. “Which flight, please?”

“Kathmandu,” Uma says.

“You have to check in right now, Madame, or your plane will depart without you.” He motions her to one of the counters before shouting, “Anyone else for Kathmandu?”

Uma grabs one of her roller bags and rushes to the smiling check-in lady.

“Fuck the plane,” I say, hot on her heels with her second bag and backpack.

She doesn’t turn around. In fact, she doesn’t so much as glance at me until her luggage is checked in and she’s told to hurry to her gate.

She practically runs to it.

I stride beside her until we reach the corded lane leading to passport control.

“Uma, please.” I grab her shoulders and spin her around. “Give me one reason why you won’t marry me.”

She looks down, refusing to meet my eyes.

I wait.

When she finally looks into my eyes, hers are filled with something… a question… an expectation… Hope.

Say it, man.

Open your mouth and make the confession you’ve been wanting to make for weeks now. The confession you’ve had tucked away into the deepest recess of your heart, too chicken to voice it. Too scared to even acknowledge it.

The tension on Uma’s face gives way to profound sadness. “Good-bye, Zach. Thank you for everything.”

Before I can stop her, she whirls around and flashes her boarding pass to the security man who lets her pass.

“Wait, Uma!” I try to run after her, but the man blocks my way.

His voice is cold and official when he says, “Your boarding pass, please.”

“I don’t have one.” I step aside, scanning the crowded lane for Uma’s petite figure. She couldn’t have gotten far.

There she is, just a few meters away.

“I love you,” I say, my voice cracking.

She doesn’t turn around.

“I love you!” I cry out.

Can she hear me? There’s too much noise in this damn place.

“I love you, Uma,” I yell. “I love you!”

Where has she gone, for Christ’s sake?

I holler at the top of my voice, “I love you! I love you! I love you!”

Nearly everyone turns their heads to look at the dork who’s picked the world’s least romantic place for a love declaration. Except Uma. I spot her in front of the passport control booth. She pushes her papers through the slit in the glass and waits for the guard to scrutinize them. She won’t turn around. A moment later, the guard hands her passport back to her and says something with a smile. Probably, bon voyage. She sticks the documents in her purse and dashes behind the booth.

“I love you,” I whisper again as she disappears.