Chapter 4 #2
“Right after I brought up having a baby,” I say, the timing suddenly clear. “That’s when it started, wasn’t it? When I started talking about wanting a family a year ago.”
“The timing does correlate with those discussions, yes.”
I turn back to the suitcase, trying to zip it closed over the mountain of haphazardly packed clothing. The zipper catches, and I yank at it with such force that my fingernail bends back painfully. I hiss through my teeth, frustration building to a breaking point.
“Allow me,” Caspian says, suddenly beside me. He places his hands over the very full suitcase, pressing down as his muscles bulge and the zipper finally closes.
I step back, watching his efficient movements. The scratch on my forearm throbs, and I notice small splinters embedded in my palms from the wooden hangers.
When Caspian straightens, suitcase secured, he lifts it as if it weighs nothing. “Where would you like me to place this?”
“By the front door,” I say, voice steadier than I feel. “Where he can see it the moment he walks in.”
I follow Caspian down the stairs, watching the smooth play of muscles beneath his uniform as he carries the heavy suitcase. He sets it precisely in the center of the entryway, positioning it so Daniel can see it right away.
I stand there at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed over my chest, waiting. The house is silent except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room.
Tick. Tock.
Each tick of the clock feels like a countdown to the end of my marriage.
Thirty minutes later, I hear the sound of the engine pulling into the driveway, and my heart rate spikes as I slowly set my orange juice onto the dining table. Adrenaline goes through me as I get up from my chair, hands shaking.
Headlights sweep across the living room windows, then darkness as the engine cuts off. Keys jingle in the lock, and then the door swings open.
Daniel steps inside, hair slightly disheveled, tie loosened. He has that satisfied look I recognize all too well—the same expression he wore last night after fucking me. Only now I know it’s not about me. It never was.
I’m so disgusted that I could even taste it. Bitter and acidic at the back of my throat. This stranger with whom I’ve shared a bed for five years. This liar who promised to love and cherish me.
He doesn’t notice me at first as he hangs his coat on the rack with no worries at all.
“We need to talk,” I say, and he turns, seeing me standing there in the dining room. A surprised look flickers across his face before rolling his eyes in annoyance.
“What are you doing up?” he asks, his eyes roaming over the suitcase in front of him. “Are you going somewhere? What’s that suitcase for?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, my voice shaking with rage. “You’re leaving. I want a divorce.”
Daniel stares at me for a moment, then laughs. Actually laughs. “It’s late, Rose. We can talk about whatever’s bothering you in the morning.”
He starts to walk past me toward the kitchen, dismissing me and my declaration in one casual movement.
Something inside me snaps.
“I know about Katherine,” I shout, my voice bouncing off the high ceilings. “I know everything, Daniel. I saw the messages, the pictures. I know you’ve been fucking her for almost a year!”
That stops him. He turns slowly, his expression shifting from surprise to calculation. Those eyes, which I once found so attractive, now look cold and reptilian, assessing the situation.
“What have you been doing, going through my phone?” he asks, his tone more irritated than guilty.
“Why does that fucking matter?! I saw everything,” I say, my voice rising. “Your dick pics. And everything you said about me.”
Daniel’s posture changes, becoming more defensive. He glances at Caspian, who stands perfectly still near the wall, then back to me—a muscle ticks in his jaw.
“Our marriage,” he says, voice dropping dangerously, “has been dead for a long time. And that’s on you.”
“On me?” I repeat, disbelief washing over me.
“Yes, on you,” he says, stepping closer, anger replacing his earlier dismissiveness. “You’re not interested in me. Do you remember how you just lie there during sex, like you’re doing me some big favor? How you nag constantly about babies when I’ve told you I’m not ready?”
Each accusation hits, and my stomach churns, but I stand my ground.
“That doesn’t give you an excuse to cheat.”
“You checked out of this marriage years ago,” he continues, warming to his subject now. “You’re so busy with your meaningless career and your baby obsession that you never once asked what I wanted.”
“What did you want? To stick your dick into your co-worker?” I scream. “And you touched me afterwards?! How disgusting is that?”
“At least she likes it,” Daniel retorts. “At least she looks at me when we fuck. And she doesn’t see me as just a sperm donor.”
I slap him hard across the face before I can think.
The crack echoes in the entryway, and Daniel’s head snaps to the side. When he looks back at me, his eyes are cold with hatred.
“Get out,” I say, my voice deadly quiet now. “Pack more if you need to, but I want you gone tonight.”
“This is my house, Rose. My name is on the mortgage. If anyone’s leaving, it’s you.”
“That’s fine then,” I say, as my heart twists in my chest. After five years of marriage, he’s willing to throw his wife out when he’s the one who betrayed us.
I feel tears welling in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not in front of him. Never again for him. I turn and grab my phone from the dining room table, snatching my purse from the hook by the door. I shove my feet into the first shoes I find.
“Rose, don’t be dramatic,” Daniel says, his tone shifting to condescending. “Where are you even going to go at this hour?”
“Anywhere that’s away from you,” I say, fumbling with the door handle, my hands shaking with anger and adrenaline.
“You’re being ridiculous,” he calls after me. “Just come to bed. We can talk about this tomorrow. We can still be married.”
He’s worried about our families. That’s the only reason he married me. He hates looking bad.
I turn back one last time, meeting his eyes. “We’re done talking, Daniel. We’re done with everything. I don’t give a shit about this house or your money or anything else you think you can hold over me. It’s over.”
I step outside into the cool night air, letting the door slam behind me. The street is dark and quiet, houses sleeping peacefully all around us. I have no idea where I’m going, but for the first time in years, I feel like I can breathe.
Behind me, I hear the door open again. For a moment, I think Daniel has followed me, ready to continue the argument. But when I glance back, it’s Caspian standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable in the shadows.
Our eyes meet across the distance, and something passes between us. Like an understanding. Or something more complex that I can’t name.
“Close the door,” Daniel shouts, and the door softly closes behind me. My heart is pounding.
This is done. We’re over.