LOGINThe next morning, I wake up with a headache. Not the blinding, fever-induced kind from yesterday.This one is dull and persistent. The kind that settles behind your eyes after a night spent crying.I lie in bed for several moments, staring at the ceiling.For one blissful second, I forget.Then I remember everything and just like that, the heaviness returns.I drag myself out of bed, the house is eerily quiet.Ethan has already left for work.Good.I don't think I can look at him right now.The day crawls by and I spend most of it in the guest room, alternating between reading and mindlessly scrolling through my phone. Claire calls twice to check on me. I lie both times and tell her I'm fine.She doesn't believe me.I know because she says, "I'm coming over."I tell her not to.The last thing I need is Claire marching into this house and committing homicide.Around three in the afternoon, there's a knock on my bedroom door."Mrs.?"I look up from my book."Come in."The door opens, re
I stare at the shredded divorce papers scattered across the dining table.For a few seconds, I can't move, breathe or think.All I can do is look at the torn pieces of paper…..the remains of my freedom.Then the shock fades and rage takes its place.Pure, White-hot rage."Are you fucking insane!?"My voice comes out much louder than I intend but Ethan doesn't flinch. He simply stands there, shoulders rigid, jaw tight, looking maddeningly calm."I'm not divorcing you."I laugh, the sound is disbelieving."You don't get to decide that.""I do if you need my signature."Something cold settles in my stomach.He knows.Of course he knows.He knows exactly how difficult he'll make this, how long he'll drag things out and how exhausted I'll become.The realization makes me hate him just a little more."You can't force me to stay married to you.""I can try."I stare at him and I see it……the Desperation.A desperate, ugly need to hold onto something that's already gone."You don't love me,"
The house is quiet, too quiet even. I sit alone at the dining table, a cup of tea growing cold between my hands. UThe fever has gone down, but I still feel weak. My head throbs dully, and my body aches in a way that has nothing to do with illness. I glance at the clock hanging in the kitchen. 8:37 p.m. Ethan left a little after eight this morning. He never came back, not even once, not to check on me, not to see if my fever had worsened. Nothing. A bitter smile tugs at my lips, I shouldn’t be surprised. He did exactly what he's always done, he chose her.Again. I lower my gaze to the stack of papers sitting neatly on the table beside me. Divorce papers. Claire's law firm had drafted them weeks ago, I'd been hesitating, waiting for the right opportunity. Hoping that Ethan would wake up one morning and realize what he was throwing away, that we were throwing away. Now I know better. There is nothing left to save. I spent the entire afternoon going through every clause, ever
I wake up feeling like death. For several seconds, I lie perfectly still, staring blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling of the guest room, trying to understand why every inch of my body hurts. Then I move. A sharp ache immediately throbs through my head. I groan and squeeze my eyes shut again. Wonderful. Just wonderful. My throat burns, my body feels heavy. Even lifting my arm to check the time seems like too much effort. Definitely a fever. I let out a miserable sigh and bury my face deeper into the pillow. The events of yesterday crash back all at once. The hospital, Dad's surgery, moving back, finding blonde hair in my bed. Ethan admitting he'd brought her into our room. Suddenly, the headache gets worse. A knock sounds on the door and before I can answer, the door opens. Ethan steps inside. He's already dressed for work, looking annoyingly put together in a navy suit. The moment he sees me, he frowns. "You're awake." I grunt. It's the best I can manage. His frown d
The rest of the workday passes in a blur, I make mistakes, Simple mistakes. The kind I never make, I mislabel samples, enter the wrong figures into a report. Twice, I catch myself staring blankly at my computer screen for several minutes without actually seeing anything. Thankfully, nobody says anything Or maybe they do and I simply don’t hear them. My mind is somewhere else. Somewhere between my father’s hospital room and the house I’m about to return to. Home. The word no longer feels right. At five-thirty, I finally shut down my computer. Most of the office has already emptied out, I gather my things slowly, delaying the inevitable. Eventually, I can’t put it off any longer. Taking a deep breath, I leave the building to find Ethan is already waiting. He’s leaning against his black Mercedes in the parking lot, dressed in a charcoal suit. The moment he sees me, he straightens. For a brief second, something flashes across his face. Relief. It vanishes almost im
Sleep doesn't come…..not really. I spend the entire night staring at the ceiling in Claire's guest room, listening to the steady hum of the air conditioner and the occasional sound of cars passing outside. Every single time I close my eyes, I hear Ethan's voice. Would you rather your father die than come home with me? The words play on an endless loop inside my head. Cruel, manipulative and worst of all...Effective. I roll onto my side for what must be the hundredth time. The digital clock on the nightstand reads 3:17 a.m. I close my eyes, open them again. 3:46 a.m. Then 4:28 a.m. Then 5:11 a.m. At some point, I must have drifted off because the next thing I know, sunlight is streaming through the curtains and Claire is knocking softly on the door. "Amelia?" I groan into my pillow. "Dead people don't answer." The door opens. Claire pokes her head inside. "You look like shit again.” "Thank you." "You're welcome." I glare at her. She grins unap
Furious…..Absolutely furious. "What the hell is wrong with you?" The words explode out of me before I can stop them. Ethan blinks. Like he's genuinely surprised by my reaction. The sight only makes me angrier as I push back from my desk and stand. My hands are shaking, not from fear, from
The next morning, I wake before my alarm and a few seconds, I stare at the unfamiliar ceiling above me. A sigh escapes my lips as I push myself upright and rub my face. The ache behind my eyes hasn't completely disappeared. It feels like it never will. Mochi is sprawled across the foot of the b
The city lights blur past my windshield, the road stretches endlessly ahead. For once, my phone is silent, no calls from Ethan or messages from his mistress or reminders of a marriage that’s already dead. Just silence and I should feel devastated, Instead I feel exhausted. The kind of exhaustion
The city blurs past my windshield and for the first time in what feels like forever, I can breathe. Enough to feel the weight on my chest ease just a little. The suitcase in the backseat rattles softly whenever I hit a bump, a strange sense of finality settles over me. I left. I actually left. N







