CHAPTER 2

Maya

The apartment was exactly as I left it. Dinner cooling on the table, dishes washed and waiting, throw pillows arranged on the couch where David never sat. I had cooked his favorite meal three hours ago. Rosemary chicken, roasted vegetables, and the rice he liked from that specific brand he mentioned once in passing.

He was not coming home. He never did on Grace's appointment days.

I walked through our apartment like a stranger touring a museum of someone else's life. Wedding photo on the mantle showing me smiling at the camera while David checked his phone. Kitchen full of expensive appliances I used to cook meals he ate at his desk, if he ate them at all. Bedroom with a bed I slept in alone more nights than not.

How had I not seen it? How had I convinced myself this was normal?

The door opened at nine forty-seven. I had been counting minutes on the kitchen clock, watching seconds tick away what remained of my marriage.

David walked in, loosening his tie, barely glancing my way. He looked tired. He always looked tired after visiting Grace.

"You are home," he said, like my presence in our shared apartment was noteworthy. "I got your text. We should talk about whatever is bothering you."

Whatever was bothering me. Three years reduced to whatever.

"I want a divorce." The words came easier the second time. Firmer. "I already contacted a lawyer. Papers will be ready by Friday."

He stopped moving. Really looked at me for what felt like the first time in months. "Maya, if this is about the donation schedule, we can space them out more. I know it has been a lot lately."

"This is not about the donation schedule."

"Then what?" He set his briefcase down, giving me his attention the way he gave it in business meetings. Polite. Professional. Distant. "Is it money? I just sent you fifty thousand."

"You think I want money?"

"Is that not what this is about?" He gestured vaguely. "If you need more for something, just tell me. You do not have to threaten divorce to get my attention."

I laughed. The sound surprised us both. It was harsh and broken, nothing like the soft laughs I used to give when trying to please him.

"David, when is my birthday?"

He blinked. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"My birthday. When is it?"

"I do not see how that is relevant to this conversation."

"You do not know." It was not a question. "We have been married three years and you do not know when my birthday is."

"I have been busy with the company and Grace's treatments. I am sorry I forgot a birthday. I will make it up to you."

"You did not forget. You never knew." I moved to the couch, sat down before my legs gave out. "What is my favorite color? What do I do on weekends when you are at the hospital? What did I study in college? What do I want out of life?"

David ran a hand through his hair, frustration creeping into his voice. "Where is this coming from? You have never complained before. If you wanted me to know these things, you should have told me."

"I should not have to tell my husband to care about me."

"I do care about you. I appreciate everything you do for Grace. The donations have helped her immensely."

And there it was. The only version of me that existed in David's world. Maya is the donor. Maya the helper. Maya is the convenient solution.

"I am done donating," I said quietly. "I am done cooking meals you do not eat. I am done waiting for you to come home. I am done being invisible in my own marriage."

"You are not invisible. You are being dramatic." He sat across from me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Look, I know I have not been the most attentive husband. The company has been demanding and Grace's condition requires a lot of my time. But that does not mean I do not value you."

"Value me how? As a wife or as a medical resource?"

"That is not fair."

"What is not fair is that I gave you three years to see me. Three years, David. And you looked through me every single day."

His phone buzzed. We both looked at it. Grace's name lit up the screen.

"You should answer that," I said. "She needs you."

"Maya, we are talking."

"No, we are not. You are explaining why I should accept less than I deserve. That is not talking. That is negotiating." I stood, walked to our bedroom. "Answer the phone. I know you want to."

I heard him sigh, heard him answer with a gentle voice he never used with me. "Hey, Grace. No, it is fine. What is wrong?"

I closed the bedroom door and leaned against it. My hands shook as I pulled out my phone, turned it back on. Seventeen missed calls from David. Three voicemails I would never listen to. One text from an unknown number I had blocked.

And one message from my brother: Outside in the black car. Take your time. We have all night.

James. My fierce, protective older brother who had watched me disappear into this marriage for three years. Who had wanted to intervene a hundred times but respected my choice. Who was probably sitting in that car right now wanting to storm up here and drag David through the hallway.

I packed one suitcase. Just clothes and toiletries, nothing else. The designer handbag David bought me for our first anniversary stayed in the closet. The jewelry his mother gave me with backhanded comments stayed in the drawer. The expensive perfume he said Grace liked stayed on the dresser.

I took my mother's necklace. The simple silver chain she wore every day of my childhood, the one my father gave me after she died. That was all I needed from this place.

When I came out, David was still on the phone. He looked up, saw the suitcase, and his expression shifted to something almost like concern.

"Grace, I need to go. I will call you back." He hung up. "Maya, where are you going?"

"I told you. I want a divorce."

You cannot just leave. We need to talk about this properly."