Chapter 8 Serves Him Right
Tobias dropped me off in front of the hotel, hesitating for a long moment before finally speaking. “Nicole, do you need my help with anything? Actually, I-”
“Could you help me find a place to live? I’m not really familiar with all that. I’m getting old. I just can’t keep up with the times anymore.”
I cut him off, feeling a bit anxious.
All these years, my stubbornness had kept me from ever asking anyone for help.
But now, I was hopelessly behind the times.
Back then, renting an apartment just meant calling up an agent. Now, everything was done online. I hardly ever used electronics, and I didn’t know how to use them.
After decades, I was moving out of the home I’d spent half my life in—all by myself.
Inside, I was honestly terrified.
“No problem. I’ll help you right now!”
Tobias made a few calls, probably reaching out to some younger folks for help.
Soon enough, he had a list of addresses sent over.
That morning, he took me to see four or five apartments.
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Turns out, new places these days are all so beautifully decorated.
In the end, since I’d be living alone and wanted to feel safe, I settled on a secure apartment in a building with an elevator.
It was 900 dollars a month, sparsely furnished–just a bed and not much else–but the environment was already a huge step up from the cramped hospital rooms I’d grown used to.
After Tobias left, I sat in that empty apartment by myself.
I glanced at the clock–five in the afternoon. Out of habit, I rushed into the kitchen to start dinner, to tidy up, to get Wyatt’s things ready for the evening.
But the next second, I froze in place.
That’s right. I’d forgotten.
I was free now.
As the sun set, I walked to the little market at the entrance of the complex, bought a comforter, some vegetables, and a few staples. Back home, I made myself some pasta and even added a drumstick for good
measure.
With the TV blaring in the background, I shoveled pasta into my mouth- then suddenly, I broke down in tears.
I ate and cried, salty tears dripping onto my plate like beads on a broken string. All the feelings I’d bottled up during the day finally burst out.
My disappointment, my heartache, my resentment–after all these years of giving everything, all I got in return was cold indifference.
I ate my pasta, and my tears slipped right into my mouth.
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I couldn’t understand what I’d done wrong.
How could someone who gave their whole heart end up like this?
Living alone, I realized, took a lot of courage.
When night fell, I made up my bed and lay down in the empty room.
After years of sleeping amid the snores and beeping machines of hospital wards, the silence kept me wide awake for hours.
But over at Wyatt’s place, everything seemed just peachy.
That month, I worked hard to adjust to living on my own.
To anyone watching, I looked perfectly normal–still going to work, still buying groceries and cooking dinner by myself. But every night, I couldn’t help but tear up.
Any little thing could set me off, unraveling me until I couldn’t sleep at all.
Maybe just to show off, Heidi messaged me at the end of the month.
“Wyatt’s getting remarried, Nicole. Are you coming?”
What a joke.
I didn’t reply.
Three days later, she sent a barrage of photos and videos anyway.
Wyatt had thrown himself a big second wedding.
Everyone said he was lucky–after ten years in a coma, he woke up and landed a young, beautiful new wife.
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He was practically glowing, forcing Damian and Laurel to recognize Ezra as their “Mom” and “Mother–in–law.”
That old house–he’d given the biggest room to Ezra.
Wyatt couldn’t grasp my sadness. He even sent me a voice message, “Did you see my Instagram? Isn’t my new wife gorgeous?”
Hearing the smugness in his voice, I deleted it on the spot.
Damian, Laurel, Wyatt, Heidi–anyone connected to him, I wiped them all out of my contacts.
Two months had passed since the divorce.
I’d finally moved on.
I quit my cleaning job.
The moment I realized I didn’t have to keep grinding away just to keep someone else alive, I felt lighter than air.
For years, I’d had a dream–I wanted to run a little food stall.
My parents had passed down their cooking skills to me, and I made especially good pasta. Tobias was thrilled for me. “Nicole, let me help you get a business license. Being your own boss is great–when you have a goal, you won’t feel lost!”
He was right.
The first time I stood on the street as my own boss, all the bitterness and gloom that had weighed me down for so long finally vanished.
It felt like my life had a new center of gravity.
But for Wyatt, things weren’t going so well.
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He started calling me constantly.
At first, I just kept hanging up, but eventually, I couldn’t stand the harassment anymore and changed my number.
At last, my world was quiet.
Even so, friends couldn’t help but mention him, “Nicole, did
you
hear
about Wyatt…?”
I just laughed.
“Serves him right.”
