100 Reasons to Leave

I stared at the twelve-second voice note sitting on my screen, neither tapping to convert it to text nor replying.

Mike Tank’s WhatsApp profile still displayed the photo from our wedding day.

In the past, I often told him to swap it out for a proper headshot, so he wouldn’t look unprofessional to his superiors in work group chats.

Mike refused every time. Squeezing my hand in his palm, he said he wanted everyone to know that he was taken.

Yet now, the same married man had filled his Notes app with another woman’s name.

The next morning at eight, Mike’s video call came through right on cue.

I accepted the call and set the phone upright on my vanity table.

On screen, Mike wore his washed-out windbreaker, the aging county office building with its peeling paint behind him.

With dark circles under his eyes and a heavy frown, Mike lifted a chipped mug to his lips.

“The meeting ran late last night, honey. I didn’t get a chance to text you back.

“Life out here’s rough. I don’t get hot water most days, and my stomach’s killing me. I can’t keep anything down.”

I paused while applying my lipstick, my eyes falling on the shirt beneath his windbreaker.

It was brand-new, its collar trimmed with intricate embroidery.

The shirt was completely out of character for Mike.

Once, I bought him a patterned shirt from an artisan market, but he shoved it to the back of the closet, claiming it was too flashy.

I looked him in the eye and asked, “Nice shirt. Did you pick it out yourself?”

Mike glanced down at his collar, his gaze shifty. However, he was quick to pull himself together.

“No. One of the older ladies in town gave it to me. She meant well. It would’ve been rude not to wear it.”

He sighed and put his mug down.

“Dawn, folks out here are simple. They are genuine. They appreciate the smallest kindness. You’ve spent your whole life in the big city. You care about designer labels and nice things. You wouldn’t understand what a gift like this means to them. I didn’t want to hurt any feelings, so I put it on.”

My knuckles went white as my grip on the lipstick tightened.

Apparently, expecting quality made me materialistic.

He saved his excuses for me while giving every ounce of his attention and care to Ava.

I clicked the lipstick cap shut and looked at him through the screen.

“Since it’s so tough out there, I might as well use my annual leave to come down to the town, see you, and bring over some meds and seasonal clothes next week.”

“You can’t!”

Mike jolted to his feet and knocked the mug over, spilling his drink all over the table.

Without even stopping to wipe up the spill, he raised his voice.

“The rainy season's starting, and there’ve been landslides on the mountain roads. It’s dangerous.

“Honestly, you’d just be another thing I’d have to worry about. Dawn, just stay home, okay?”

Mike cut the conversation short and ended the call before I could say another word.

Five minutes later, a notification slid across my screen.

Mike updated a shared note.

“4. Almost blew it today. I wish I could wear the shirt Ava made for me every day. I must stop Dawn from coming. I’ll take Ava to Black Mountain tomorrow to shop for furniture for her B&B.”

My stomach was in knots when I read the memo.

It wasn’t the landslide he feared. He simply didn’t want me to stumble into the little world he had created with Ava.

I opened the airline app and booked the earliest flight to Black Mountain.