Chapter 5 - THE LAST NIGHT
Eric followed me upstairs.
“Elena.”
I opened the bedroom closet.
Half empty already.
“You packed.”
“Yes.”
“How did I not notice?”
“You stopped looking.”
That hurt him.
Good.
Truth sometimes should.
He sat on the bed.
“Are you really going?”
“Yes.”
“Because of one sentence?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
I turned.
“The sentence was the moment I understood the arrangement.”
“What arrangement?”
“Your family decides.”
I pointed downstairs.
“I adapt.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No?”
“No.”
He stood.
“I've supported you.”
“How?”
His mouth opened.
Closed.
I continued.
“When your mother lost her house, who solved it?”
“You.”
“When your father's company needed capital?”
“You invested.”
“When Madison needed eighteen thousand dollars for her car?”
His face changed.
“You found that.”
“Yes.”
“Elena—”
“When Diane needed thirty-five thousand over fourteen months?”
Silence.
“When your relatives needed somewhere to stay?”
No answer.
“When your sister needed a six-month housing arrangement?”
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
He looked away.
“After the baby.”
“Exactly.”
I laughed softly.
“You never planned to ask me before making the decision harder to reverse.”
“That isn’t what I was doing.”
“Then why did you tell Madison I would ‘get used to it’?”
He froze.
I held up my phone.
The message.
He read it.
His shoulders fell.
“I was trying to keep her calm.”
“At my expense.”
“Yes.”
The word surprised me.
He sat again.
“Yes.”
Finally.
“I kept telling everyone what they wanted to hear.”
“And me?”
He looked at me.
“I assumed you could handle it.”
That sentence was almost tender.
Almost.
“You thought because I was capable, I required less respect.”
His eyes filled.
“I think I did.”
There it was.
Not evil.
Not a criminal mastermind.
Just a husband who gave the strongest person in the room the smallest share of consideration because he assumed she would survive it.
I had.
I simply was not staying.
“Come to London with me.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Let’s start over.”
“You hate the idea of London.”
“I’ll adjust.”
I almost smiled.
“No.”
“Elena.”
“You don't get to relocate for me only after I sell the house.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
That shocked him.
It shocked me less.
Love had never been the only issue.
“I thought you hated me.”
“No.”
I folded a sweater.
“I don't need to hate you to leave.”
He cried quietly.
For a moment, I wanted to sit beside him.
Then I did.
Not as reconciliation.
As goodbye.
He said:
“I made you feel like you didn't belong in your own home.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I believe you.”
His face lifted.
Hope.
I stopped it.
“That doesn't mean I'm staying.”
He nodded slowly.
“I know.”
May you like
This time, I think he did.
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