After She Walked Away

Chapter 2

The office felt different after Elaine closed the door.

Quieter.

Aron remained seated for a long time, staring at the signed papers in front of him.

Elaine Flores.

Not Flores-Salazar.

He hadn’t noticed when she stopped using his surname publicly. Or maybe he had… and just didn’t think it mattered.

The rain tapped steadily against the glass walls.

He told himself this was necessary.

He told himself this was freedom.

But the room felt heavier than before.

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face slowly. For five years, Elaine had been there — not loud, not demanding, not dramatic.

Just there.

At events.

At family dinners.

At home, waiting quietly when he came back late.

He remembered once coming home past midnight. She had fallen asleep on the couch with a book on her chest. He had covered her with a blanket without waking her.

He had felt something then.

He just never gave it a name.

A knock on the door interrupted him.

Mia stepped in carefully.

“Sir… Mrs. Sal—” She stopped herself. “Ma’am Elaine already left.”

“I know,” Aron said.

Mia hesitated.

“I think… she wasn’t okay.”

Something in her tone made him look up.

“What do you mean?”

“She tried to stay composed, sir. But in the elevator…” Mia paused. “She was crying.”

Aron’s jaw tightened.

Elaine never cried in front of him.

Not once in five years.

He stood up slowly and walked toward the window. From that height, people looked small. Cars looked like toys. Everything felt distant.

He thought of her walking into the rain without her umbrella.

She always carried one.

He noticed things like that.

He just never acted on them.

“You can go back to your desk,” he said quietly.

Mia nodded, but before leaving, she added softly, “She really loved you, sir.”

The door closed.

Aron exhaled slowly.

He had known that.

That was the problem.

He picked up his phone out of habit.

Her contact name was still there.

Elaine.

His thumb hovered over it.

He put the phone down.

This was what he wanted.

Wasn’t it?

⸻

That same night.

Their house felt unfamiliar.

Too neat.

Too quiet.

Elaine stood in their bedroom, staring at the closet.

Half of it was hers.

Or… had been.

She opened a suitcase and placed it on the bed.

At first, she moved slowly.

Folding dresses.

Placing shoes carefully inside.

Taking down framed photos.

One photo made her stop.

It was from their third anniversary. They weren’t touching in the picture — just standing side by side at some formal event. But she remembered that night.

She had been so happy.

He had smiled at her in that photo.

She used to zoom in on that smile when she felt insecure.

Her vision blurred again.

She sat on the edge of the bed, holding the frame against her chest.

“I really tried,” she whispered.

There was no one to hear it.

No one to respond.

The house echoed with silence.

She stood up and continued packing, but her movements became uneven.

When she reached the drawer beside his side of the bed, she opened it instinctively.

His watch.

His cufflinks.

The cologne she once bought him as a surprise.

She closed it immediately.

That wasn’t hers anymore.

By midnight, one suitcase was full.

That was all she planned to take for now.

She looked around the room one last time.

Five years.

She just sat on the floor beside the bed.

Tahimik.

Yung klase ng tahimik na parang masakit sa tenga.

The suitcase was already zipped. One medium-sized luggage. Five years reduced to that.

Elaine leaned her head against the side of the bed.

“Ganun lang pala,” she whispered.

Ganun lang kadali para sa kanya.

She tried to think of something bad about Aron. Something to make it easier.

Pero wala.

He wasn’t abusive.

He wasn’t cruel.

He never shouted at her.

He just… never loved her.

Mas masakit pala ‘yon.

Her chest tightened again. She pressed her palm against it as if that would help.

“Bakit hindi ako naging sapat?” she asked the empty room.

No answer.

Of course.

After a few minutes, she stood up and walked to the bathroom. She washed her face, staring at herself in the mirror.

Red eyes.

Slightly swollen nose.

Smudged mascara she missed earlier.

“You’re not weak,” she told her reflection.

But her voice shook.

She stepped out of the bedroom and walked down the hallway. The house felt bigger tonight. Colder.

On the console table near the stairs was their wedding photo.

She stopped.

Slowly, she picked it up.

In the picture, Aron was serious but calm. She was smiling wider than him.

She remembered that day.

She remembered telling herself:

Maybe love will come later.

She let out a soft, almost embarrassed laugh.

“Ang tanga ko,” she murmured.

Not angry. Just honest.

She placed the photo face down on the table.

Hindi niya kayang dalhin.

Pero hindi rin niya kayang itapon.

Her phone buzzed.

For a second, her heart jumped.

Maybe—

But it was just a bank notification.

She stared at Aron’s name on her screen anyway. Wala namang message.

Of course there wasn’t.

If he wanted to stop her, he would have.

And he didn’t.

She wiped her face one last time and carried her suitcase downstairs.

As she reached the door, she paused.

Five years.

“Salamat,” she whispered softly.

Not to him.

To the version of herself who tried.

Then she stepped outside.

The rain had stopped.

⸻

Meanwhile…

Aron was still in his office.

Hindi pa siya umuuwi.

He didn’t know why.

He told himself he had reports to review. Emails to answer.

But he hadn’t opened a single file.

His mind kept replaying one thing.

“I loved you.”

The way she said it — not accusing, not dramatic.

Just true.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

He had expected anger.

Maybe pleading.

Maybe blame.

Hindi ganun si Elaine.

She just accepted it.

And that unsettled him.

His phone was still on his desk.

He picked it up.

Scrolled to her name.

Elaine.

For five years, she always answered on the second ring.

He remembered that.

He pressed the call button halfway—

Then stopped.

What would he say?

Don’t go?

But he had already signed.

He exhaled slowly and placed the phone back down.

This was what he wanted.

Freedom.

Love.

Choice.

So why did the office suddenly feel empty?