Chapter 3
Zoe
The only sound in the dining room is the rhythmic clatter of silverware scraping against porcelain. I keep my focus lowered, tracking the precise movement of my fork as I raise a piece of bacon. My hand pauses midway to my mouth when the voice cuts through the silence.
"Zoe."
Greta’s tone carries its usual sharp edge. I deliberately place the fork in my mouth, chewing slowly, letting the salt and warmth of the food register before I lift my gaze to meet hers.
"Sarai says you accused her of seducing your husband."
My eyes instantly drift across the table to Sarai. Her head is bowed so low her chin nearly touches her collarbone, her eyes fixed on her breakfast plate as if the scattered crumbs have suddenly transformed into priceless jewels.
"I didn't," I say, my voice flat, cutting through the thick air.
Greta turns her torso toward Sarai, extending a wrinkled, heavily ringed hand to pat her arm with exaggerated comfort. "Go on, darling. Tell her exactly what you called me to say in the middle of the night."
I keep my eyes trained on Sarai, my head already tilting in anticipation of whatever narrative she has woven since dawn.
Sarai shifts, clearing her throat as she points a hesitant finger toward the kitchen, then moves it to point directly at me. "So, I was in there last night... and she told me she is angry with me. She said she thinks I just want to steal all of Chris’s attention."
Greta’s palm strikes the hardwood table, making the juice glasses rattle. "This is just downright unacceptable." She pivots, pointing a manicured, wrinkled finger straight at her son. "Can you hear what she has to say? All because of what? You missed your anniversary what, once?"
With my gaze still locked on Sarai’s blinking eyes, I reach for my cloth napkin, calmly wiping the corners of my mouth.
"Five times," I say aloud.
My mother-in-law freezes, her hand hovering in midair. "What is five times?"
"He." I tilt my chin toward Chris, who sits entirely rigid. "He missed it five times. And every single one of those times, he was with Sarai."
Greta’s gaze flickers from her son to the widow, her posture stiffening. When she speaks again, her volume drops, losing some of its performative fire. "But... I am sure it is not what you think, Zoe."
I offer a single, slow nod. Then I look directly at my husband. His chin is pressed against his chest, his eyes staring blankly at his untouched coffee.
"Do you have anything to add to this mini..." I lift my hands, my fingers gesturing through the empty space as I search for a word to describe the repeating loop of our lives. "Confrontation?"
Chris finally lifts his head, his gaze meeting mine fully. The tight set of his jaw tells me everything before he even parts his lips. I already know the alignment of his loyalty.
"You shouldn't have said that to a widow, Zoe."
A cold sensation washes over my lips, and I track the edge of my teeth against them before a small, humorless smile breaks through. I grip the edge of the table, pushing my chair back with a scraping sound that echoes against the walls. The food before me might as well be ash.
"At this point, Chris—not to throw shade—but it is looking like I am the widow here, and she is the one with a husband."
I toss the crumpled napkin onto the table.
Simultaneous gasps ripple from Greta and Sarai, but I am already turning on my heel.
I march out of the dining room, behind me, the rapid, solid thud of his footsteps breaks the quiet.
Before I can reach the elevator, his hand clamps around my wrist, pulling me around to face him.
"What was that on the table?" he demands, his breath coming fast.
"Oh. You mean me stating facts?"
"What is wrong with us, Zoe?" His fingers tighten slightly, his brow furrowing in deep lines. "What is wrong with you?"
"I am tired of explaining, Chris." I look down at his grip until he lets go, my arm dropping to my side. "The fact that you believed what Sarai had to say without even thinking to ask for my version tells me everything I need to know."
Chris shakes his head, his chest expanding with a rough breath. "What do you mean by that? I mean... I know Sarai won't just make things up."
A laugh breaks from my throat, loud and entirely unprompted, echoing in the hallway. "So you genuinely believe I would just say that all of a sudden? Out of the blue, just like that?"
He stays silent, his lips forming a hard, defensive line.
I let out a harsh huff, blowing the trapped air past my teeth. I look past his shoulder, lifting my chin toward the high ceiling, forcing the hot moisture prickling my eyelids to recede back into my tear ducts.
"It has always been like this," I whisper, my voice rough. "She says something, and you never care to check in with me. She wants something that I needed first, and you never care to come to me."
A small sniff escapes me. My fingers curl into tight fists, the pressure of my nails digging into my palms acting as a physical anchor to keep the rising tide of emotion from cracking my face wide open. I blink rapidly, clearing the remaining blurriness, and look him dead in the eyes.
"I am done coming last in my marriage, Chris. And if you are not aware of when this whole thing started going downhill..." I wave a fist toward the space between us. "Then I have absolutely nothing left to tell you."
I turn back toward the elevator car.
"Baby," he calls out, the word sounding ragged.
I stop, turning my head just enough to catch his profile over my shoulder. "Oh, and yes. She actually did tell me that she has a thing for you early this morning. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a video call to make to people who actually care to put me first in their lives."
I give him a final, decisive nod, step into the elevator, and let the doors slide shut between us.
***
The laptop screen glows, revealing the familiar clutter of a university dorm room.
"Mom, it's fine," Elizabeth’s voice comes through the speaker, her expression serious as she leans closer to her camera. "All you have to do is come stay with us. Or you could even stay with Aunty Maya; she’s doing okay here in Derby. Or even Aunt Dana."
I sink back against the pillows of my bed, watching my daughter’s face.
"Or I would even suggest you go to Connecticut," Elizabeth continues, her fingers gesturing as she thinks out loud.
"I mean, you have the property there. Plus, your work as a financial advisor is quiet and flexible, so...
you can leave until Daddy realizes what he did wrong.
And Aunty Sarai..." She lets out a sharp click of her tongue, her expression darkening.
"She never used to be like this. I don't know. But how are you, Ma?"
"I'm okay, darling," I say softly, the words feeling heavy in my mouth. "I just need to pack and leave, I guess. It looks like this has been overdue for a while now."
"Yes, I believe it has been overdue," Elizabeth agrees, nodding firmly.
"So, how is... uh, Nate?" I ask, shifting the topic to my son.
"Oh, he's fine. He's pissing me off as usual," she trades with a small shrug.
"What about Aunty Maya?" I ask, thinking of my sister who rarely stays in one city for long.
"She's alright." Elizabeth glances at something off-screen, then looks back. "I'm sure Nate is at school right now. And Mom... I am sure you are not so happy."
I let out a weak breath. "And how do you know that?"
"Your voice," she says softly, her eyes softening through the lens. "I'll leave you to yourself now."
"Yeah. Thank you, Lizzy."
"I love you, Mom. Please take care. And despite all of this, I know Daddy loves you. I just don't know why he is hellbent on not thinking about you when he makes his decisions."
"I'm too numb to care, Lizzy," I murmur, my hand drifting over the comforter. "I'll let you know when I make a decision."
"Have a nice day at school, will you?" I add, before reaching out to end the call, the desire to speak fading into a dense fatigue.
A moment later, a sharp chime signals a text message. I look down at the screen.
We love you, Mom. And please leave when you want to, Lizzy’s text reads.
Another alert chirps immediately after.
Go where you're valued, or just stay alone. I am sure that when he loses what he values, he'll come searching.
A final message pops onto the glass.
I know you've tried speaking with him, but maybe you could try one more time. Then, if he doesn't respond the better way, you can leave.
I stare at the three blocks of text, the words lingering on the screen. If this doesn't clear the fog and reset my mind, I don't know what else will.