Chapter 3 - Back to Reality
Morning sunlight warmed the wide wood-plank floor of the cabin’s kitchen. Sarah stood at the counter, pouring cereal into bowls, trying to focus on something ordinary. Matt moved beside her, close enough that his arm brushed hers with every reach. Neither of them spoke.
The kids noticed.
Emily broke the silence first, her little voice soft but steady. “Mom, why did you and Daddy cry last night? Are you sad?”
Sarah’s hand stilled on the cereal box. Her heart lurched. Of course, this was coming. She and Matt had drawn up the papers, tucked the truth into manila envelopes like it could be contained there. But nothing about this could be contained, and now their five-year-old had cracked it wide open.
Matt glanced at her, his face pale, waiting.
Sarah’s mouth opened, but no sound came.
The words shrank inside her. What was she supposed to say?
That yes, Mommy was sad because Daddy had blown their life apart?
That, yes, they had cried because the word divorce wasn’t just a whisper in their house anymore, it was ink on a page waiting to seal their fate as a family?
Before she could answer, Tommy leaned forward in his chair. “I know why.”
Both Sarah and Matt snapped their heads toward him.
Tommy frowned, serious in a way that made him look older than eight. “My friend Marcus said that when his parents cried a lot and stopped talking, it was because they were getting a divorce. Is that what you’re doing?”
He squinted, like he was working out a hard math problem. “You don’t even live in the same house anymore.”
Matt set his hand on the counter, knuckles grazing Sarah’s. “I should.”
Tommy pressed on. “Does this mean you and Mom don’t love each other anymore?”
The question landed between them, light as glass and just as easy to break.
Sarah’s grip tightened on the cereal box. Matt met her gaze, and in that silent exchange, they both knew the answer would matter for more than just today.
Matt crouched to their level. “Yes, I love your mom. And I love you two more than anything in the world.”
Tommy set his spoon down. His voice cracked, fear rushing into his face. “I don’t like it when you’re not home. It feels wrong, Dad.”
Sarah’s heart ached. “We need to get on the road.”
She left the kitchen without realizing she was still holding the cereal box, carrying it all the way into the bedroom before she noticed it was in her hands.
They packed slowly, as if each minute could buy them more time. Matt carried the last bag to the car while Sarah glanced back at the cabin that now felt emotionally haunted to her.
Emily climbed into the back seat, clutching her stuffed bunny. Tommy slid in beside her with his gaming backpack wedged between his knees.
Sarah started the engine and queued Feel It Still by Portugal the Man, then eased down the gravel drive. In the rearview, both kids stared out at the trees as if leaving something behind.
They reached home just as the first school buses rumbled past the end of the street. Sarah left the engine running while Matt climbed out to grab the kids' school backpacks from inside the house. Tommy was already talking about showing his friends the fish photo on Matt’s phone.
Emily took Sarah’s hand with one and Matt’s with the other as they walked back to the car for the short drive to school.
Drop-off was quick. Tommy bolted for the doors with a wave, and Emily lingered just long enough to squeeze Matt’s arm before running to catch up with her brother.
When the school doors closed behind them, the quiet settled in. Sarah turned the car toward home, her hands steady on the wheel.
Halfway there, she glanced at Matt. “I'm surprised you told Mr. Holloway about Lily.”
Matt shrugged. “Figured he should hear it from me, so I told him about the one time in the office...”
Sarah’s foot eased off the gas. “Wait. You told him it was just one time?”
Matt turned his head toward her, caught off guard.
“You lived with her for what… a month? Two months after our breakup? Don’t downplay this for convenience,” she said, eyes still on the road.
His face hardened. “I wasn’t...”
“You were. I know you’re trying to move past it, but there will be no revisionist history here. If I have to live with the entire ordeal, so do you. You don’t get to trim it down to the pieces that make you look better.”
The hum of the tires filled the space between them. Matt stared out the window, his reflection faint in the glass.
“Sarah, I’m not going to allow this to define me,” he said finally.
Her hands began to sweat around the steering wheel.
“But this does define you and us right now, Matt. It defines me as the idiot wife whose husband stepped out on her. It defines you as the cheating asshole who slept with a woman because she was there. It defines a marriage that was a sinking fucking ship and infidelity as a wake-up call to both of us. It also defines the boundaries of a relationship teetering on the brink of disaster. So don’t fucking tell me you aren’t going to allow this to define you when it became you the moment you fucked her. ”
When they reached the driveway, Sarah shifted into park and finally looked at him.
“There are times when I want space. At the same time, there are moments when I wish you were here to console me.
But I was serious last night. I'm not sure if we can be good again. I guess space is what I need. Perhaps someone else will be the one to console me.”
Matt felt like he had been hit with a taser.
Her words jolted through him, short-circuiting whatever resolve he thought he still had.
Perhaps someone else will be the one to console me.
The thought alone made his stomach seize.
Anger surged up fast, violent, begging for a fight.
He sucked in a long breath, forcing it down before he said something he couldn’t take back.
Matt stayed in his seat as Sarah stepped out.
She was right. About all of it. And yet the part of him that wanted to argue wouldn’t shut up.
He wanted to throw her words back, defend the way he’d shaved the edges off the truth for Mr. Holloway, swear that he wasn’t hiding, that he wasn’t rewriting history.
But he couldn’t, because every time he pictured saying it plain, he saw her face that first night.
He heard her voice break, the same voice that now threatened to give her comfort to someone else.
Moving forward meant dragging the whole thing with them, ugly and heavy, like a suitcase he couldn’t put down. He hated the weight, but what he hated more was knowing she carried it too, and now she was talking like she might just hand it off to someone else.
He pushed the door open and followed.
She was in the kitchen, setting her keys on the counter, when he spoke.
“I’ve got to get to work, but I want to talk to you.”
She didn’t turn around. “Say hi to Lily for me.”
Matt barked out a sharp laugh, more anger than humor. “Sure, Sarah. You want me to send her over so the two of you can compare notes? Since you’re so obsessed with what we did together, maybe you should get it straight from her.”
She glared at him. Her eyes narrowed, mouth curling into something closer to a dare than a smile. “Great idea, Matt. You can meet her over here later and fuck her on the counter in front of our kids.”
The pause was clinical, precise, like two surgeons stepping back before the next incision.
Matt's face flushed hot, fury and exhaustion twisting together. “This is fucking pointless. I’m killing myself trying to get back to you, and all you see is her. I’m done arguing about her. I’ll be back tonight. Decide if you even want me in this house by then.”
Sarah watched him storm out, the slam of the door rattling the walls. She didn’t flinch. Not this time. Her pulse raced, but she forced it down, forcing the storm inside her into stillness. She had cried herself empty the night before. All she had left now was resolve.
Sarah stared at the closed door, the echo of his anger still vibrating in the walls. For nearly nine months, she had kept herself contained, every tear shed alone, every crack hidden from him. Not once had she let him see her unravel. Control had been her armor, silence her shield.
Then one note in Lily’s handwriting, paired with the intimacy she thought she was ready for, had ripped it apart. A tidal wave, sudden and merciless, dragged her under before she could breathe.
She stood in the stillness of the kitchen, arms slack at her sides, trying to find her footing again.
Last night had been the first time she’d broken in front of him since the day he confessed.
That truth taunted her; if only she could unlive it.
But right now, she was ready to tell Matt to stay away for a while.
Her mind was shifting between let's work this out to fuck off.
A long breath steadied her. Shoulders squared, spine straight, she turned on her heel and headed for her office. If Matt wanted her shattered again, he’d have to look elsewhere. Work didn’t betray her.