Chapter 8

(Evelyn's POV)

The cab ride home felt longer than the one to the storage facility. My hands wouldn't stop shaking, so I pressed them between my knees and stared out the window at nothing in particular.

I kept rehearsing what I'd say. Kept imagining different versions of the conversation.

 In one, I was calm and collected, laying out evidence like a prosecutor. In another, I screamed and threw things. In a third, I said nothing at all, just handed him the papers and walked out.

But still, none of them felt right or enough.

"You okay back there, ma'am?" This driver was different from the last one. Older, with a wedding ring. 

Was her cheating on his wife too?

But I didn't say it loud. "I'm about to blow up my marriage,” I said instead.

He glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "Good for you or bad for you?"

"Both, I think."

He nodded like it made sense. Maybe it did.

My phone buzzed again. It was Julian asking if I wanted Thai or Italian for dinner, like I hadn't just watched him fuck my best friend on our couch.

I didn't respond.

When we pulled up to the mansion, I paid quickly and got out. The lobby was empty as I rode up, too tired to use the stairs.

Inside our bedroom, I moved mindlessly. Grabbed the Manila envelope from my bag—the one Mr. Creighton had given me with the divorce papers inside, and placed it in the center of the coffee table where Julian couldn't possibly miss it.

Next was the velvet box with the charm bracelet siting on the kitchen counter where I'd left it that morning. I brought it over and set it next to the envelope. It was still unopened. I never wanted to open it.

Then I turned off all the lights except for the single lamp beside the armchair, facing the door. The one where I'd sit and read on quiet evenings while Julian worked late.

Except he wasn't working late. Not on most night. I sank into the chair and waited.

My heart hammered against my ribs as part of me wanted him to walk through that door so we could get this over with. The other part wanted him to never come home, wanted to avoid the confrontation entirely and just disappear into the night.

But I'd tried being the understanding wife who didn't ask too many questions. I'd spent eighteen months making myself smaller so he could keep lying. Well, I was done disappearing.

Twenty minutes passed. Then thirty, before I heard his car pull into the parking garage below. His footsteps echoed in the hallway. And next, the door opened.

Julian walked in whistling some tune under his breath, already loosening his tie. He flipped the light switch but nothing happened because I'd turned off the overhead lights.

"Evelyn?" His eyes adjusted to the dimness, landing on me in the armchair. "Baby, why are you sitting in the dark?"

I didn't answer. Just watched him.

He stepped further inside, closing the door behind him. That's when he saw the coffee table, the envelope, and the box.

"What's going on?"

"Sit down, Julian." My voice came out more commanding than I expected. "We need to talk about our marriage."

His face dissolved into confusion first, then a flicker of fear that was quickly buried under concern. "Of course. Are you okay? You've been acting strange since this morning—"

"Sit. Down."

The sharpness in my tone made him freeze. He looked at me like he'd never seen me before, and maybe he hadn't. Not this version of me.

He sat on the couch, merely perching . And his eyes kept darting to the envelope.

"What is that?"

I leaned forward, picked it up, and held it out to him. "Open it."

"Evelyn—"

"Open it, Julian."

His hands shook slightly as he took the envelope. He slid out the papers and his face went completely white as he read the first page.

"Divorce papers." The words came out surprised "Is this some kind of joke? Evelyn, what the hell—"

"Does it look like I'm joking?"

He stood abruptly, papers flying to the floor. "This is insane. We had one fight this morning and you're filing for divorce? Over what, because I forgot your birthday?"

"Sit down."

"No. I'm not going to sit here while you—"

"I said sit down." 

Something in my expression must have convinced him because he sank back onto the couch. His mouth opened and closed like an animal gasping for air.

I picked up my phone from the armrest, pulled up the video, and slid it across the coffee table toward him.

"Before you start lying to me again, you should know I've seen everything."

He stared at the phone like it might bite him. "Seen what?"

"Everything." I kept my voice emotionless. "Pick it up. Watch it."

"Evelyn, I don't know what you think—"

"Pick. It. Up."

He did and pressed play with trembling fingers. I watched his face as the footage played. Watched the color drain from his cheeks, watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. Watched the exact moment he realized I knew.

He made it maybe thirty seconds before setting the phone down. He couldn't even finish watching himself betray me.

"I can explain."

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest. Sharp and bitter. "Can you? Please, Julian. Explain to me how you ended up fucking my best friend on our couch."

He flinched like I'd slapped him. "Don't—"

"Don't what? Say it out loud? You had no problem doing it. Why should I have a problem naming it?"

"It's not what it looks like—"

"It looks like you brought Serena to our home while I was at the book club. It looks like you had sex with her in our living room. It looks like she asked when you were going to tell me about your relationship, and you said you needed to wait for the right time." I recited the facts like I was reading it from a script. "What part of that am I misunderstanding?"

His mouth moved but no sound came out.

"How long, Julian?"

Silence.

"How long have you been sleeping with my best friend?"

More silence as he stared at his hands.

Something inside me snapped and I stood, my voice going loud. "HOW LONG?"

"Eighteen months." It came out as barely a whisper.

The number hit me like a physical blow. I'd known, obviously. I'd heard it on the video. But hearing him say it, hearing him admit it—

"Eighteen months." I sank back into the chair because my legs wouldn't hold me anymore. "That's longer than some relationships. That's not a mistake, Julian. That's not one bad decision. That's a year and a half of choosing her. Of lying to me. Of coming home and kissing me with her taste still in your mouth."

"Stop—"

"Every single day for a year and a half. Every morning you told me you loved me. Every night you held me. All of it was a lie."

"No." He dropped to his knees, hands clasped together like he was praying. "No, it wasn't a lie. I do love you. You're my wife. You're everything to me."

"If I'm everything, why wasn't I enough?"

"You are enough. God, Evelyn, you're more than enough. I was stupid. I was weak—"

"You were a coward." The words came out cold and taunting. "You wanted the stability of a wife and the excitement of a mistress. You wanted everything and you gave me scraps. Eighteen months of scraps while you and Serena built something real."

"It wasn't real. She wasn't—"

"Don't you dare." I leaned forward, meeting his eyes. "Don't you dare tell me it meant nothing. I heard you on that video. 'I married her when I was young and stupid.' That's what you said about me. About our marriage. About seven years of my life."

His eyes watered , but no tears dropped. "I didn't mean it. I was trying to—I don't know what I was trying to do. I'm so sorry. Evelyn, please, I'm so sorry."

He reached for me but I pulled back.

"Don't touch me."

"Please. Just listen. I'll end it with her. Right now. I'll call her right now and tell her it's over. I'll never see her again. I'll do anything—"

"You want to do anything?" 

He nodded frantically, desperately.

I stood, picked up the divorce papers and handed them back to him. "Then sign these and let me go."

"What? No. No, that's not—"

"That's what I want, Julian. The only thing I want from you is my freedom."

"We can fix this. Couples go through rough patches all the time. We can go to therapy, we can—"

"There's nothing to fix." I pulled my hand back, letting the papers fall between us again. "You killed our marriage the first time you touched her. I'm just making it official."

I turned toward the door that led to the walk-in closet.

"Where are you going?"

"To pack."

"Evelyn, wait." Panic crept into his voice. "It's late. Babe, you're upset. Just stay tonight and we can talk in the morning when we're both calm."

I stopped at the door, looked back at him one last time. He was still on his knees on the floor, looking broken.

Good.

"There's nothing left to talk about, Julian. You had a year and a half to talk to me. To be honest with me. To choose me." I turned the doorknob. "Now it's my turn to choose. And I choose to leave.”