[Cordelia]I never get my husband’s love. He is too busy giving it to others while I’m stuck here watching them, helpless to do anything about it. Keeping the newspaper firmly in front of my face, I try to seem casual as I take a small sip of my cold, bitter coffee, grateful that I grabbed my gym hoodie, sweatpants and a pair of sunglasses from my car as a last-minute disguise. I don’t want anyone to recognize me, especially not him. It’s bad enough that my marriage is a joke to everyone who knows us, I don’t need to make it worse by making myself look like a jealous stalker.She must have said something funny because I hear the faint echo of his laughter from across the cafe. I can’t believe how casually he is flaunting his relationship with this…girl. She can’t be any older than me. He’s always saying I’m such a child and yet here he is with a silly blond at least a decade younger than him. He told me he couldn’t come to my family brunch this morning because of work. I had to end

[Cordelia] I cannot remember most of the drive, but by some miracle, I made it home. April, the family maid, scrunches up her face when I approach. At first, I think she is going to deny me entrance due to my wet, muddy clothing, but then I remember that I live here too and she can’t keep me out in the cold. “Good Evening, April,” I greet her as I gently push past her. Not wanting to bring her body into contact with mine, she moves aside, letting me enter. “Young Miss,” she has never, in 5 years of marriage, ever used my proper name or title as wife of the oldest son and mistress of the house. “Please change before entering the rest of the house.” I know she would rather all of me stay outside. She has never been kind to me, knowing that I am not wanted by Atlas, or anyone else. Why should she be kind to a person out of favor that doesn’t even sign her paychecks? To appease her sensibilities, I take off my shoes and hoodie and let them fall to the floor in a heap near the door

[Atlas]My body betrayed my heart last night. I’m disgusted at how quickly I forgot about Angelica while in the arms of her little sister. Yet I cannot get Cordelia out of my mind. When I close my eyes, my thoughts wander to the way she smells, the way she tastes, or the feeling of her soft, smooth flesh underneath my fingertips.I left work a little bit early today so I could talk to her about what had happened and clear the air between us. But as I pull up into the driveway I see a rental car. Who could be here in the middle of the day?The house is quiet except for some soft sounds I hear coming from Cordelia’s room. Moving swiftly, I make it to her door just in time to find her in the arms of my brother, Clark. He was supposed to call me when he got here, but instead, he rushed right over to see her. My vision goes red. “Clark!” I shout. “What are you doing in my wife’s room?”“I am doing what you should have been doing,” Turning towards me Clark stands up straighter, “I’m taking

[Atlas] Cordelia pushes past us as she rushes up the stairs. A few seconds later I hear the sound of her door slamming. I could tell that Sydney’s presence was causing her pain. Maybe I should go upstairs and apologize but I was feeling petty after our argument this morning. Sydney coughs. For a moment I had forgotten the guest I invited over that I hadn’t meant to invite over. “I’m sorry you had to see that. My wife and I…” how do I phrase this without giving too much away. “she can be a bit…well dramatic.” I settle on a word. It doesn’t feel fair, but it also fits. Sydney shrugs as if none of it matters. “Um…where should I put this,” she indicates my oversized suitcase. I ask her to set it down near the stairs and I notice that she has a slight limp. Cordelia must have pushed her down harder than I thought. “Hey, wait,” I stop her before she can reach the stairs. Taking the suitcase from her, I bring over a nearby chair and instruct her to sit while I take the suitcase an

[Atlas] A letter from Cordelia’s lawyer arrived two days later requesting that I schedule a day for us to meet and go over the terms of our divorce. When she left that stormy night, I never thought she’d seriously go through with it. I expected her to come crawling back the next day, wet and resigned. She never learned how to take care of herself alone. She moved from her parents' house directly into mine. She’s never had to do anything for herself. When her lawyer’s aide dropped this letter off at my office he was swift and kind. It has all been handled in such a mature and professional manner I find myself glowing in pride for how much Cordelia has grown. I guess she grew up while I wasn’t watching. Eventually, I’m going to need to call her lawyer. Set up an appointment to speak with Cordelia. Maybe even convince her to not go through with this divorce. But not today. Today I am finally finalizing the deal with Bryant Textiles. The letter has been on my desk for a week