Chapter 3 Emma
Iwoke up on the bathroom floor.
For a moment, I couldn't remember how I'd gotten there.
Then it all came flooding back: the messages, the photos, David's face when I told him to leave.
I'd made it to the bedroom, locked the door, and then.
.. what? Crying didn't quite cover it. I'd sobbed until I couldn't breathe, until my throat was raw and my eyes were so swollen I could barely see.
At some point I'd stumbled to the bathroom and curled up on the tile, because it was cool and solid and somehow that helped.
My phone was next to me, face down. I picked it up.
All from David.
Please call me.
We need to talk.
I'm so sorry.
I love you.
Each one made my stomach turn.
I stared at his name on the screen. Then I opened my contacts and scrolled to Jess.
My fingers hovered over her name. I should call her. Tell her what happened. But the thought of saying it out loud, of making it real by putting it into words, made me want to throw up again.
I texted instead.
Can you come over?
The response was immediate.
omw
everything ok?
I stared at the question. How did you even begin to answer that?
no
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
be there in 20
I dragged myself off the bathroom floor. My reflection in the mirror looked like something from a horror movie. Eyes bloodshot and swollen, mascara smeared down my cheeks, hair matted on one side from sleeping on tile. I looked like I'd been hit by a truck.
I felt worse.
I splashed cold water on my face, brushed my teeth, tried to make myself look human. It didn't help much. I pulled my hair into a bun and gave up on the rest.
Downstairs, the wine stain was still there. Dark and accusatory. I stared at it for a moment, then walked past into the kitchen.
David's suitcase was gone. So he'd actually left. Part of me had wondered if he'd just sit in his car all night, waiting for me to change my mind.
The thought made me feel nothing. Shouldn't I feel something? Relief? Sadness? Something?
I made coffee on autopilot. The machine hissed and gurgled, filling the silent house with the only sound besides my own breathing. I poured a cup and took a sip, but it tasted like nothing.
The doorbell rang twenty minutes after Jess's text.
I opened the door, and there she was. Jess.
My best friend since college, the one person who'd stuck by me through everything.
She was still in her scrubs—mint green, which meant she'd come straight from her shift in the ER.
Her dark blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had that particular kind of exhaustion that came from twelve hours of keeping chaos at bay.
But the second she saw my face, all of that disappeared. Her eyes went wide, then soft with concern.
"Oh, Emma."
She pulled me into a hug before I could say anything. I stood there stiffly for a moment, then something in me broke again and I was crying into her shoulder, gasping out words that didn't make sense.
"He… Sarah… five months… I found—"
"Okay. Okay, I've got you." Jess held me tighter. "Come on. Let's sit down."
She steered me to the couch, keeping one arm around me. I noticed she was careful to avoid the wine stain on the carpet. She'd see everything, of course. That was Jess: ER nurse, trained to assess a scene in seconds.
"Tell me what happened." She kept her voice gentle but steady. The same tone she probably used with patients in crisis.
So I told her. About the laptop. The messages. The photos. Sarah. The credit card charges. David coming home and trying to blame me for our marriage falling apart. All of it spilled out in fragments, my voice breaking every few sentences.
Jess didn't interrupt. She just listened, her hand on my back, her face getting progressively more furious.
When I finally finished, she was quiet for a long moment.
"That motherfucker."
Despite everything, I almost laughed. It came out as a sob instead.
"I'm serious, Emma. That absolute piece of shit." She pulled back to look at me. "Where is he now?"
"I kicked him out. Packed his suitcase. Told him I was filing for divorce."
"Good." Jess nodded sharply. "Good. Does he still have a key?"
I froze. I hadn't even thought about that.
"Oh, God. Yes. He does."
Jess's jaw tightened. "Not for long." She pulled out her phone. "I'm calling Sebastian."
Sebastian showed up forty-three minutes later with a toolbox and a duffel bag.
Jess's brother-in-law. The one who did locks and security systems, apparently. He was younger than I expected, maybe late twenties, with the kind of build that came from actual physical work, not a gym. Dark hair, olive skin, and a no-nonsense expression that reminded me of Jess.
"Emma?" He extended his hand. "Sebastian Reyes. Jess told me what happened. I'm sorry."
I shook his hand, feeling oddly grateful that he didn't try to make small talk or offer empty platitudes.
"Let's get your locks changed," he said simply.
Jess appeared from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee. "Front door, back door, and the garage."
"Yeah, I got it." Sebastian was already kneeling by the front door, examining the existing lock. "This is a standard deadbolt. Easy fix. I'll do a smart lock if you want. You can control it from your phone, change the codes remotely."
I just nodded. I didn't have the energy to make decisions about locks.
"Smart lock," Jess decided for me. "And make it the good kind. The kind that alerts her phone if someone tries to break in."
"You got it." Sebastian pulled out his drill.
I sat back down on the couch while he worked. The drill echoed through the house, steady and relentless, like it had somewhere to be. Jess sat next to me, pressing a coffee mug into my hands.
"Drink," she ordered.
I took a sip. It was too hot and too sweet, the way Jess always made coffee when she thought you needed comfort more than caffeine.
"You're staying with me tonight," she said. It wasn't a question.
"I can't—"
"Emma. You're not staying here alone. Not tonight." She gave me a look that said the discussion was over. "We'll pack you a bag after Sebastian’s done."
The drill stopped. Sebastian moved to the back door without a word, his toolbox clanking.
I watched him work through the kitchen doorway, completely unbothered by the fact that he was changing locks on a stranger's house at seven in the morning because her husband had cheated.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "For calling him. For being here."
Jess squeezed my hand. "Where else would I be?"
My phone buzzed on the coffee table. Another text from David.
Emma please. Can we just talk? I'll do anything.
I stared at it. Then I picked up my phone and blocked his number.
It felt like nothing. And everything.
"Good," Jess said, watching me. "Fuck him."
Sebastian emerged from the back hallway, wiping his hands on his jeans. "All done. Front and back are changed, garage too. I'm setting up the app on your phone now." He held out his hand for it.
I unlocked my phone and handed it over. He tapped and swiped for a minute, then handed it back.
"You're all set. You can lock and unlock from here, see when doors open and close, get alerts if someone tries to force entry.
I set a temporary code for now. You can change it to whatever you want.
" He showed me the screen. "The old locks are completely replaced.
Even if someone has the old keys, they're useless now. "
"Thank you," I managed. "How much do I—"
"On the house." He was already packing up his tools. "Jess said it's an emergency. We take care of emergencies."
He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was obvious, like helping a stranger whose husband cheated was just what you did on a Wednesday morning.
Something in my chest cracked a little. In a good way, maybe.
"Seriously," Sebastian added, pausing at the door. "You need anything else, like cameras, alarm system, whatever it is… you call me. Jess has my number."
Then he was gone, and it was just me and Jess in the too-quiet house.
She looked at me, reading my face the way she always could. "You want to stay here or come to mine?"
I looked around. The wine stain. The new locks that David's key wouldn't open. The empty space where his suitcase had been.
"Here," I said quietly. "I need to stay here."
Jess nodded. "Okay. Then I'm staying with you."
"You don't have to—"
"Emma." She gave me that look again. "I'm staying. End of discussion."
I didn't have the energy to argue. And honestly, I didn't want to be alone.