Chapter 8
By the time Genny was ten, I knew how to read a room before I even stepped into it.
It was a skill I picked up in court, but it carried into everything else.
I had unfortunately perfected the silence, the energy, and the way something could feel off before you had proof of it.
That morning, when I pulled into the driveway, I felt it before I even turned the key in the ignition.
Something was wrong.
The house looked the same from the outside. The shrubs were perfect, but the fence that surrounded the house was open. I told myself I would quickly change out of my court clothes so I could surprise Genny and pick her up from ballet instead of Justice for a change.
I closed the door behind me slowly, my heels echoing against the hardwood floor as I stepped inside.
My eyes moved across the living room, scanning without meaning to.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
But the couch, the table, and the bookshelf in my downstairs office all looked fine.
Everything looked untouched, but something was missing.
It didn’t hit me all at once what was wrong, but then suddenly I realized Charles was gone.
His shoes weren’t by the door, and his keys weren’t on the counter. His favorite recliner in the corner of the living room, where he always sat with his laptop, was gone.
I walked toward the bedroom, slower now, my chest tightening with each step.
The closet door was open.
And half of it was empty.
Nothing was scattered. This motherfucka didn’t leave in a hurry.
He left no fuckin’ mess. Hangers were spaced out as if they had always been that way.
Drawers partially pulled open, nothing left inside but the things that belonged to me.
I stood there for a second, staring at the empty half of the closet as I waited for my mind to catch up with what I was seeing.
Then I reached for my phone, and I called him. His phone rang with no response. I got his voicemail, so I tried again, then a third time, and when it rang twice, he picked up.
“Yes, Chanel.”
His voice was calm. A little too calm for someone who up and left after eleven years of marriage.
“Where are you?” I asked breathlessly.
“Chanel—”
“Where are you?” I repeated, sharper this time.
“I’m not coming back,” he said.
Just like that. No buildup, no I’m sorry, just the truth..
My grip tightened around the phone.
“What are you talking about?”
“I filed,” he said. “You’ll be served later this week.”
My heart dropped, but not in the way I expected.
The dip in my chest wasn’t for me; it was for Genesis.
He didn’t bother to arrange custody before he went.
He didn’t even consider that she might be with me when I walked into his shit, being gone.
A tear fell from my eye at the realization that my baby girl just experienced her first heartbreak.
I was so busy running from my first heartbreak and convincing myself Charles was safe when he committed a worse crime, one of neglect.
I leaned against the edge of the dresser, steadying myself.
“How long have you known you didn’t want a family anymore, Charles?”
“It’s been a while,” he said. “I didn’t know how to say it.”
I let out a short breath.
“Try now.”
“I met someone.”
There it was. Of course, he was a walking, talking fuckin’ cliche. I bet she was in her twenties and was from the type of world Carolyn approved of.
I closed my eyes for a second. This shit was so fucked up because I would rather die than stay in anything I got from his bitch ass. “I figured,” I said quietly.
“What do you mean you figured?”
“You’re not the most stealth, Charles.”
The late nights. The distance. The way he stopped even pretending to reach for me.
I saw it all in real time but couldn’t bring myself to give a damn.
I had love once. I had a passion so pure it burned as bright as the sun, but Charles dulled me.
I just didn’t say anything. Because somewhere along the way, my happiness stopped mattering.
“I didn’t want to do it like this,” he said.
“But you did,” I replied.
“I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” he added.
“I’m not worried about that,” I said.
“Is Genesis there?” he asked.
My chest tightened. This bastard acted like he gave a fuck now.
“It’s Tuesday, she's always dancing on Tuesdays.”
“Can you talk to her for me?”
“My baby and I will be alright, Charles. Live your fuckin’ life.
” I hung up the phone. And then I laughed fuckin’ hysterically.
Because standing there, in a half-empty closet, with a marriage ending, I realized something I had never said out loud before.
I never loved him. I appreciated him. I respected him.
I felt like I owed him, but I never loved him.
We didn’t have the kind of love that makes your chest ache and your thoughts spin, and your heart feel like it’s outside your body. I never felt that with Charles.
And somehow, that hurt more than the divorce itself. Because it meant I stayed anyway. For years. In something that never had what I thought I needed to survive. I laughed for staying in this bourgeois ass town for so long. I missed my home, my mom, my dad, and my sister.
I walked through the house slowly, room by room, like I was confirming it, as if maybe if I checked everything again, I’d find something he forgot. Something that meant this wasn’t as final as it felt.
I ended up in the kitchen without remembering how I got there. My hand rested against the counter as I stared at the empty space in front of me. My reflection caught faintly in the stainless steel of the refrigerator, but I didn’t recognize the woman looking back.
Not because she looked different, but because I looked peaceful. I had spent years preparing for chaos with the Hughes family.
I heard the door opening. I turned slightly, already knowing who it was before I heard her voice.
“Mommy?”
Genesis gave Justice a hug at the door and walked in. Her backpack dragged slightly behind her as she stepped inside, kicking her shoes off without thinking the way she always did. She looked up at me, her face lighting up for a second before she noticed something was off.
Children always know. Even when you don’t say anything.
“You’re home early,” she said.
“Yeah,” I replied, keeping my voice steady. “I finished early today.”
She nodded, accepting that answer easily, but her eyes lingered on me a little longer than usual.
“Where’s Daddy?” she asked.
I swallowed slowly, turning fully toward her.
“He’s not here right now,” I said.
She frowned slightly. “Is he working late?”
“Something like that. I promise I will explain everything soon.”
I hated how vague it sounded. But I didn’t have the words yet. I just wanted to protect her from what was coming.
She nodded again, but I could see it. My baby was brilliant. She felt the shift. She dropped her bag by the stairs and walked over to me. She wrapped her arms around my waist without saying anything else. I froze for half a second. Then I wrapped my arms around her. Tighter than usual.
She leaned into me like it was normal and nothing had changed. She had no idea her world would never be the same.
“Mommy?”
“Yeah, Genny baby?”
“Are you okay?”
I let out a slow breath, smoothing her hair down gently.
“I’m okay.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either.
She pulled back just enough to look up at me.
“You look sad.”
I smiled softly. “I’m just tired.”
She studied me for a second, like she was trying to decide if she believed that.
Then she nodded.
“Okay.”
And just like that, she let it go because she trusted me.
“Go wash your hands,” I said gently. “I’ll make you something to eat.”
I moved through the kitchen on autopilot, pulling things out, setting them down, going through motions I had done a hundred times before.
But my mind wasn’t there.
It was ahead. Thinking about conversations I hadn’t had yet and her questions I wouldn’t be able to answer. A little girl trying to understand why her father wasn’t coming home. I gripped the edge of the counter for a second, steadying myself.
Because of that, that was the part I wasn’t ready for. I could handle losing Charles. After Xavier, I didn’t see the world in color anymore, only black and white. I just didn’t know how to help Genesis understand it.
* * *
For the first time in years, I called out without over-explaining, without justifying it, without trying to prove that I was still dependable, still in control, still the version of myself everyone expected me to be. I just stayed home.
Genesis sat at the kitchen table that morning, swinging her legs as she ate, talking about something that happened at school yesterday as if nothing in her world had shifted yet.
I listened, nodded when I needed to, smiled when she looked at me, but my mind wasn’t on her story.
It was on everything I needed to figure out next.
After I dropped her off at school, I sat in the car longer than I meant to. The engine was off, the street quiet, parents already pulling away and moving on with their day like nothing had changed. I stared straight ahead, my hands resting loosely on the wheel.
For the first time in a long time, I didn’t have a plan. Not one that had already been laid out for me. Not one that came with guidance, structure, or someone else’s expectations attached to it.
Just space.
My phone sat in the cup holder. I picked it up, stared at the screen for a second, then I called my sister.
Kenya answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hey,” I said.
There was a brief pause, then recognition softened her voice. “Chanel?”
“Yeah.”
“You okay?”
I exhaled quietly. “I’m figuring it out.”
“That’s something,” she said gently.
I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes for a moment. “Charles left.”
She didn’t interrupt and didn’t rush to respond.
“He filed for divorce,” I added. “He met someone else.”
“You home?” she asked.
“No. I just dropped Genesis off at school.”
“You’re moving back home, right?”