[What is this stuff on the table?]
[Emily, are you insane?! Are you lying to me? Text me back!]
[Come home and let’s talk about this. There has to be a misunderstanding.]
[Stop being so impulsive, I am NOT signing this divorce agreement. I want you to talk to me face-to-face and explain exactly why you’re doing this!]
I couldn’t help but find it absurd. Even now, James hadn’t realized his own mistakes; he was still pinning all the blame on me.
I let out a soft sigh and powered down my phone. The plane accelerated down the runway, the roar of the engines drowning out everything else. Leaning against the window, I watched the city lights shrink until the familiar skyline vanished entirely.
…
That morning, after dropping Chloe off, James figured Emily was in a bad mood, so he drove all the way to the Northwood District to buy her favorite blueberry pancakes. Pushing open the front door, he expected to find Emily exactly where she always was—sitting obediently on the sofa, waiting for him.
Instead, he searched the entire apartment and found it completely empty.
“Where did she go?”
James checked his watch. It was still early. “Did she really storm out just to throw a tantrum?”
The pancakes were getting cold. He sat at the dining table, eating while texting Chloe.
[Emily threw a fit and left. I should have just driven her first.]
Chloe replied almost instantly: [Huh? She’s being so petty.]
[Chloe: You were going to drive her anyway, it’s just a matter of who went first. Holding a grudge over that is way too much.]
[Chloe: See? I’m much better behaved, aren’t I?]
[Chloe: We’re just best friends! Her paranoia is out of control. James, you need to talk to her. Are married men not allowed to have freedom? Do you have to revolve your entire life around her?]
James replied absentmindedly: [Hard to say. She’s just stubborn, and I don’t want to fight with her.]
[It’s probably just pregnancy hormones making her unstable. I’ll just have to be more accommodating for a while. Don’t take it to heart, Chloe.]
A long time passed without a reply. She was likely pouting because she didn’t get the answer she wanted.
James washed down the last bite of his breakfast with some water. It wasn’t until he set his glass down that he noticed the papers weighed down on the table.
He pulled them closer.
It was a divorce agreement.
James froze, his mind going completely blank. His eyes scanned the bold letters at the top of the page over and over again, as if he had suddenly forgotten how to read.
Then, he flipped to the second document—
The Women’s Health Services notice.
His hands began to shake uncontrollably. The papers fluttered to the floor as his heart hammered violently against his ribs.
Call her. Right! Call her to confirm!
He dialed her number dozens of times in a row. But the tables had finally turned—Emily didn’t answer a single one.
When calling failed, James resorted to texting. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t hold the phone steady, having to brace his elbows against the table and re-type words multiple times just to hit send.
Still no reply.
James bolted into the master bedroom and yanked open the closet doors.
It was practically empty. Her suitcase was gone, half her skincare products were missing from the vanity, and her favorite coats had vanished from the hangers.
James crumpled to the floor. In that devastating instant, only one despairing thought echoed in his mind.
Emily didn’t want him anymore.
