Chapter 6 - THE APARTMENT WITH THE BLUE DOOR
The apartment was in Ballard.
A small one-bedroom above a bakery.
It had crooked floors, tall windows, and a blue front door.
The kitchen was barely large enough for two people.
I loved it immediately.
The landlord asked whether I was moving for work.
“Something like that,” I said.
I signed a six-month lease.
Not because I'd decided to divorce Ethan.
Because I needed somewhere that belonged to me while I made that decision.
When I told him, he went quiet.
“You rented an apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Without talking to me?”
I looked at him.
“Ethan, I spent seven years talking to you.”
He flinched.
I continued.
“I need a place where I can hear myself think.”
He nodded slowly.
Then asked:
“Can I help you move?”
I stared.
“No.”
His expression fell.
I softened.
“Thank you for offering. But I need to do this myself.”
Rachel helped me carry boxes upstairs.
Mia, my college friend, arrived with pizza.
We spent the afternoon assembling furniture badly.
At sunset, I stood by the window looking toward the street.
For the first time in weeks, I felt peaceful.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A woman's voice said:
“Claire, this is Natalie.”
I closed my eyes.
“What do you want?”
“I need to explain what happened.”
“Ethan already told me.”
She went silent.
Then:
“He told you?”
“Yes.”
Natalie exhaled sharply.
“Of course he did.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
She laughed bitterly.
“It means he's choosing you now.”
I stared.
“I'm his wife.”
“Exactly.”
Her voice sharpened.
“You got the title. You got the house. You got the ring. And now you want to take away the only person who knew him before you?”
I felt something inside me settle.
For years, I'd wondered whether Natalie understood what she was doing.
Now I knew.
“Natalie,” I said quietly, “you don't love Ethan the way you claim.”
She laughed.
“You don't know anything about us.”
“I know you wanted him available to you whether he was married or not.”
Silence.
I continued.
“You wanted the comfort of being his priority without accepting the responsibility of being his partner.”
Her breathing changed.
“And you wanted me to smile while you did it.”
She whispered:
“You think you're better than me?”
“No.”
I looked around my small apartment.
“I'm just done making myself smaller so you can feel important.”
I ended the call.
Then blocked her number.
That night, Ethan sent a message.
I started therapy today.
I stared at it.
Then replied:
I'm glad.
A minute later:
I'm not asking you to come home. I just wanted you to know.
I put down the phone.
For the first time, I believed he might be changing.
May you like
But I wasn't ready to trust it.
Not yet.
