Chapter Five

(Rebecca's POV)

I stared at Jason, feeling another wave of disbelief wash over me.

The man who I'd called my husband for years had not only sent me packing for another woman, but had also just watched the same woman insult me in the cruelest way possible, throwing my inability to have children in my face like it was some kind of joke. And here he was now, demanding that I apologize. For protecting a memory. For reacting when my home was being dismantled piece by piece right in front of me.

Surely I hadn’t heard him correctly.

“Sorry, what?”

He didn’t repeat himself. He just looked at me with that same irritated expression he’d had the previous night, like I was the one causing every problem in the world. “You heard me, Rebecca. Go upstairs and apologize to Arabella. She’s really upset and crying. She’s threatening to leave.”

I stood there, the faint smell of broken glass and dust still lingering in the air, and felt something inside me go completely numb. Part of me wanted to laugh at how absurd this had become. Part of me wanted to scream. But mostly, I just felt tired. Bone deep, and soul crushing tired.

But I didn’t argue. I simply nodded, the same way I had been nodding all day. It was easier that way.

Jason turned and walked away without another word, heading back upstairs to comfort her. His footsteps faded up the stairs, and then it was quiet again. Just me and the empty spot on the wall where the wedding photo used to hang.

I dragged my feet across the living room and up the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. When I reached the door of what used to be my bedroom, I stopped. My hand hovered in front of the handle.

This was my room. My space. The place where I had spent countless nights trying to hold this marriage together. Now I had to knock like a stranger before I was let in.

I knocked softly. For a long moment, there was no response and I almost turned away, hoping they wouldn’t answer. Then Jason’s voice came through the door, flat and impatient. “Come in.”

I pushed the door open slowly.

Arabella was sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes red and puffy from crying. Jason sat close beside her, one arm around her shoulders, rubbing her back in slow circles. The sight of them together in that room hit me harder than I expected. The sheets were already rumpled from them laying on it. Her perfume hung in the air, sweet and dominating.

I cleared my throat, feeling small and ridiculous standing there in my nightgown. “Um… Arabella, I’m sorry about earlier. You were right. I don’t have any children of my own and I don’t know how to react to them properly.”

She eyed me for a long moment, her expression cold. “Are you really here to apologize?”

“Yeah, why not?” I said quietly.

She scoffed. “Then do it properly and stop talking too much. You’re not even sounding sorry.”

I took a slow breath, pushing down the humiliation burning in my throat. “I’m sorry for yelling at your son, Elliot. I overreacted. It won’t happen again.”

She looked at me reluctantly, even as Jason nudged her gently with his shoulder.

She finally sighed. “Fine. If you want my full forgiveness, you will have to earn it. You’ll have to go down and warm the takeouts Jason got and make us chicken broth soup before you leave. Elliot and I have cried a lot tonight. When you’re done, you'll come call us down to eat.”

I turned to Jason, searching his face for any sign that he might step in. He simply looked away, staring at the wall like none of this concerned him. That was the answer I needed. I nodded slowly. “Alright. I’ll go do that now.”

“And don’t waste any time,” Arabella added sharply. “It’s already past Elliot’s dinner time.”

I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me, my hand lingering on the knob for a second. Then I headed downstairs, each step feeling like I was walking deeper into something I couldn’t escape. I could easily turn around and leave. After all, they thought I'd only just returned to the house whereas I'd been in the guest room all day. I could turn away from the marriage I'd so clearly lost. But something like blind hope kept me trudging mechanically towards the kitchen to do as I'd been told.

In the kitchen, I picked up the takeout bags Jason had dropped earlier. I unpacked them on the counter. It contained crispy sesame chicken, garlic beef, vegetable fried rice, and some spring rolls. The smell filled the kitchen, rich and savory, but it turned my stomach. Still, I microwaved each container carefully, stirring them properly so they wouldn’t be cold in the middle.

Then I started on the chicken broth soup. I pulled out a pot, filled it with broth from the pantry, added shredded chicken, carrots, celery, and some noodles. The motions felt automatic, something I had done hundreds of times before when Jason came home late and wanted something warm. As the soup simmered, the steam rose up and made my head feel light.

Just then, a dizzy spell hit me hard. The room spun suddenly. I gasped and grabbed the edge of the counter, holding on tight as black spots danced in my vision. My knees felt weak, and for a terrifying second I thought I might collapse right there on the kitchen floor.

Jason walked in at that exact moment, heading for the water pitcher. He stopped and eyed me with clear annoyance. “Stop pretending to get my attention, Rebecca. It’s getting old. I don't see what the point is in trying to buy more time here. Get this done and get out. You can sign the bloody divorce papers from wherever the hell you want, Rebecca.”

I wanted to explain that it wasn’t a pretense. That the dizziness had been coming more often lately, that my body was failing me in ways he didn’t even know about. But there was no point. He wouldn’t believe me anyway.

He scoffed under his breath. “Just hurry up and leave already.” Then he grabbed a glass of water and left.

I stayed leaning against the counter until the dizziness passed, then finished plating the food.

I arranged everything neatly on the dining table. The warmed takeouts in serving bowls, the chicken broth soup in nice ceramic bowls, spoons and napkins placed rightly. When it was all ready, I went back upstairs and knocked on the bedroom door again.

“Come down for dinner,” I said quietly when Jason opened it.

They came down a few minutes later. Arabella held Elliot’s hand, her eyes still a little red but her expression satisfied. Jason said something funny and she made it a duty to cackle like a hyena. They sat at the table while I stood off to the side.

Arabella looked at the food, then at me. “Taste everything on the table first. I don’t trust you not to poison us.”

I stared at her, shocked, but did as she asked. I took small bites of the sesame chicken, the beef, the fried rice, and a spoonful of the soup, chewing slowly so she could see. My stomach churned the entire time, but I forced it down.

“You'll wait on us while we eat so you'll get whatever we need,” Arabella said with an evil smirk.

I looked at Jason, even though it felt hopeless at this point, for an intervention, something that'd suggest that he might still want to protect what little dignity I had left.

“You heard her,” he shrugged nonchalantly and began eating his food.

The smell of food somehow got me hungry and I thought I'd just heat up some extra food I'd left in the fridge for the previous night, before my life turned upside down.

“Where are you going?” Arabella demanded.

“I'm hungry too. Don't I deserve at least one last meal before I leave?” I asked quietly, the calmness in my voice surprising even myself.

“Just let her eat, baby. She'll need all the energy she can get since she's gonna be on the move a whole lot now,” Jason joked mockingly.

“Of course,” Arabella cackled in mockery. “I forgot she has nothing outside what you've given her. In that case, please feel free to eat your last free meal.” She laughed some more.

It broke my heart to listen to Jason degrade me to impress her. But I was willing to swallow it, if only to get some more time around him, to convince him that he was making a terrible mistake.

I returned to the kitchen to get my own small bowl of chicken soup. I was just about to set my plate down at the far end of the table when Arabella’s voice cut through the air.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I paused, surprised. “Eating.”

“At which table?” she asked, her tone dripping with disbelief. “What happened to the kitchen? That’s where you belong now.”

I stood there, completely shocked. Has it really gotten to this point? I turned to Jason, hoping for something. Anything. He snapped without even looking up from his plate. “What? You heard her. Go eat in the kitchen…”