Three Minutes

Prologue

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” my husband, Arsel, asked as he rubbed his fingers over the back of my hand.

His platinum wedding band glistened under the lights in the upscale restaurant where we had dinner. The dress shirt he wore had the first two buttons open, showing off his three gold chains. His favorite gold watch adorned his left wrist.

“You did, but I could never hear it enough.” I blushed.

Ten years later, my husband still made me giddy every time he looked at me.

“And I’ll never get tired of telling you.” He linked his fingers with mine and gazed at me from across the table. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Our hands stayed locked on the table as the waitress delivered our food. For a few moments, it felt like we were the only people in the restaurant.

Once a month, Arsel and I set aside time to go out on a date.

Date nights were important to us because we both had demanding careers. As an author, mine was a little more flexible, unless I was on a deadline. Arsel was a trauma surgeon, so his schedule was way more demanding and unpredictable.

“How was your day? Did you get enough writing done?” Arsel asked as he cut into his steak.

“I did. I wish I had done at least one more, but I’m still on track to finish by my self-imposed deadline.” I smiled.

Arsel shook his head and chuckled. “I don’t know why you do that to yourself. It’s not like you have someone telling you when you have to finish the book.”

The first three years of my career, I was signed under a publisher.

By year four, I started independently publishing.

My publisher was great, and I wouldn’t have left her, but she forced me to.

I’d become a best-selling author, and I didn’t necessarily need her anymore.

I would forever be grateful for the tools she gave me over the years.

Even though I wasn’t signed under her anymore, she still supported me and helped me whenever I needed it.

The deadlines I created for myself were to hold myself accountable.

I needed to make sure I released books consistently to keep up with the lifestyle I lived.

Arsel paid the bills, but I still liked to contribute to the household and have my own money.

I never wanted to be where I had to rely on him because life happened.

Us divorcing wasn’t something I thought about, but anything could happen, even with him leaving every day to go to work.

God forbid something happened to his hands, and he couldn’t perform surgery, I would have to be the one to hold things down for us.

“I know, but I like to have structure. And as long as the stories are in my head, I’m going to write them.”

At first, I thought I would run out of storylines, but so far, that hadn’t been the case.

New storylines popped into my head before I could finish the book I was working on.

I wanted to build my catalog as much as possible, just in case.

I needed my money to be consistent, and I was trying to build a legacy for the future.

Even when I left this world, my books would still be around.

“I feel you. I’m proud of you, baby.”

Heat coursed through my body. I loved it when he told me he was proud of me. He was there for me at the beginning of it all. He was there through the days I had to push through sickness or pain to write. He was the first person I called when I saw that my third book had become a bestseller.

“Thank you. I’m proud of you as well.”

Arsel and I met in undergrad. I was going for a creative writing degree, and he was going for his bachelor’s in health science.

We ended up sitting next to each other in English class during my sophomore year.

The first day, we exchanged phone numbers just in case one of us missed class.

We started as friends, but the chemistry had always been there.

I just wasn’t trying to be in a relationship, because I was too busy studying and didn’t think I had time.

Arsel made it easy for me to change my mind.

He was so nice to me. He would bring food to my dorm, and we would study together.

He had a car, and I didn’t, so he would take me places whenever I needed him to, as long as he was available.

It didn’t take long for us to fall in love.

He was my everything, and most of the time, our marriage was good. Like any other couple, we had disagreements, but we always fixed our issues.

“Aww, look at the baby.” I cooed as this lady took her baby from the carrier.

Arsel glanced in their direction but then turned back to me.

Children were the one issue Arsel and I had disagreed on, and the topic was the cause of many arguments.

“Are you still not ready to have one?” I asked the question, knowing the answer already.

“Baby, you know now is not the right time.”

“When is it going to be the right time?” I dropped my fork on the plate as disappointment coursed through me.

Every time I brought up having a baby, Arsel shut it down. It was never the right time.

“I don’t know, Janiyah.” His jaw clenched.

I knew he was pissed because that was the only time he called me by my first name.

“Of course, you do—” The rest of my sentence was cut off by his work pager going off.

I rolled my eyes as he pulled it out of his pocket. He glanced at it, then pushed his chair back.

“I have to get to the hospital.” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and tossed a couple of hundred-dollar bills onto the table.

I bit my tongue, so I didn’t say everything that was on my mind. I didn’t want to start a fight in the middle of the restaurant.

Arsel came around to my side of the table and helped me up, then helped me with my coat. His hand was on the small of my back as he led me to the entrance. When we got outside, we waited for the valet driver to bring his car up.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He kissed my temple, but I didn’t want to hear his apology.

Arsel opened the door of his car, then waited for me to get inside before closing the door.

“Why are you even on call?” I asked the minute he got in the driver’s seat.

Date nights were supposed to be our time, which meant no work.

“Because Rob asked me if I could pick up his shift.”

I sucked my teeth. “And you didn’t think to at least let me know that?”

Maybe if I were better prepared, I wouldn’t have been so mad. I knew how demanding his job was, and I understood it, but at the moment, I felt blindsided.

“I didn’t think I would have to be called in.”

Arsel drove fast, but not fast enough to get a ticket. Whatever happened must have been major, but still, I didn’t like it.

“Whatever.” I crossed my arms over my chest. It was a clear indication that I no longer wanted to talk about it.

The rest of the ride home was spent in silence. Arsel knew when to argue with me and when not. I knew he wasn’t going to say much since he had to go to work.

“Baby, I’ma make it up to you. I promise,” he said as he pulled into the driveway at our house. “I can’t focus on work if you are mad at me.”

As much as I wanted to tell him to go to hell, I didn’t. I knew he needed to be in a good headspace to perform surgery, and I didn’t want to be the reason he messed up someone’s surgery.

“I’m fine.” I leaned over the console and kissed his cheek. “I love you and be careful.”

“Thank you. Love you, too.”

I opened the door and walked up the steps to the front door. Arsel stayed in the driveway until I entered the house.

I was nowhere near fine, and as I looked around the empty house, I thought about the multiple times I asked for kids. According to my husband, it was never the right time, and I was sick of hearing the same shit.

I tossed my coat and pocketbook on the couch and headed upstairs.

I went into the bedroom closet and pulled out a big suitcase.

Once I had it down, I went to the dresser and opened all my drawers.

Tears spilled from my eyes as I pulled out everything I needed and put it into the suitcase.

Once the suitcase was full, I went into the bathroom and packed all my essentials.

After I had everything I needed to last at least a week, I walked over to my bedside table and wrote Arsel a letter.

My decision to leave might have felt impulsive, but it wasn’t. It was something I’d thought about for a while. I began to feel like Arsel was too comfortable, but I wasn’t anymore. We discussed having children, so it wasn’t like me bringing it up was something new.

I loved my husband with my whole heart, but sometimes I felt like I came second to his career. Maybe some space would do us some good. Just maybe he would see how serious I was about it.

I left the note on his pillow, then headed back downstairs. Heaviness filled my chest as I dragged my bags to my car in the garage.

Once it was loaded, I made sure the house was locked, then I left. I prayed that our marriage could survive this.