He stood there, a look of utter confusion on his face. “So is this why you suddenly want a divorce?”
He grabbed my hand, his voice full of disbelief.
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Chapter 2
“Let her go.”
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Gary stepped in front of me, pointing a finger at Ethan’s chest. “Every decision Charlotte makes is deliberate. She must have been planning to divorce you for a long, long time.”
“He’s right,” I nodded. “Ethan, it wasn’t yesterday, or the day before. The moment I knew you stole my case files, I decided I was going to divorce you.”
He staggered, and only Abby’s quick arm kept him from falling.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen the signs. He was just too arrogant, too certain that I would never leave him. So he had rationalized away all the little signals of my departure.
I hadn’t picked out a suit for him in months.
After every case I won, I used to take a day off specifically to go shopping for his suits. Before we were married, his assistant hand- led it all. After, I naturally took over.
By the time he noticed, he’d been wearing the same rotation for weeks.
“Charlotte, you’re not busy anymore. When can we go shopping together?” he had hinted.
When I was most starry–eyed about love, I used to fantasize about holding hands with the man I loved, wandering through shops and grocery stores. But those fantasies were shattered after marrying Ethan. He never had time for those small, intimate things with me, yet he had endless time for Abby and her daughter.
I didn’t answer. He added, “How about this Saturday?”
My reply was a non–sequitur. “You should hire a new personal assistant.”
He heard the message loud and clear. He suppressed his anger, speaking in the gentlest tone he could manage. “Charlotte, we need to talk.”
He then unleashed a torrent of complaints, listing my supposed crimes.
“You’re not working anymore, but you can’t even take care of me full–time. Tell me, Charlotte, what have you been so busy with?”
“Are you trying to get my attention by distancing yourself?”
“I know you’re upset with me, but we’re husband and wife! I would never hurt you!”
“And you can drop the silent treatment. It’s childish and pathetic.”
The more he spoke, the more agitated he became. I just watched him, silent.
“Say something, Charlotte! Silence doesn’t solve anything.”
Our eyes met. I hadn’t looked him directly in the eye for a long time.
“Fine, I’ll talk, Ethan, let’s get a divorce.”
He looked furious, but he still treated it as a joke. “What kind of joke is that? Is the money I give you not enough? Charlotte, know when to stop.”
And so I did. I stopped mentioning the divorce. I saw him let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Life went on, lukewarm and stagnant, until a stormy night when the calm was shattered.
Ethan came home in a rage, but I was nowhere to be found. He kicked over a trash can, his anger finding no outlet. Because I had
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Chapter 2
just served him with divorce papers.
“Maria, where is your mistress?”
The housekeeper stepped forward and told him I had just packed my bags and left. Before I went, I had made him a bowl of noodle
soup. It was sitting on the dining room table.
He dialed my number, his voice frantic, as if he’d lost a precious treasure. If I hadn’t lived through his cruelty, I might have been
fooled by his panic.
“Charlotte, where are you?”
I cut him off. “Ethan, the court date is set. I look forward to seeing you hire Abby as your lawyer.”
I hung up and blocked his number.
Ethan searched the house, upstairs and down, only to find no trace of me. Even my wedding ring and the credit card he had given
me were left neatly on the dresser. He had to face it: I was gone for good.
He drifted, shell–shocked, to the dining room. The soup was cold. He mechanically began to eat. The long–lost flavor brought him
