Chapter 4

Ethan walked out of the bedroom. He had changed into a pair of dark gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. His damp hair was messy from being towel-dried.

He walked over and sat on the single armchair opposite me.

We sat across from each other, separated by the coffee table. Neither of us spoke.

On the table was an ashtray containing several cigarette butts from last night.

Next to it were two wine glasses. One of them had lipstick on the rim.

"Chloe," he finally spoke, his voice much calmer now. "I can explain about today."

"No need."

"You!"

"I made myself clear in the bedroom," I interrupted. "Get out of my apartment."

His brows knit together. "This is my home."

"It's marital property. Talk to my lawyer if you disagree."

"Are you actually serious about this?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

He stared at me for a long time, probably shocked that I was speaking to him this way.

For three years, I had been the easygoing, understanding, and quiet wife.

When he said Brooke was just a friend, I said okay.

When he said Brooke needed to stay with us, I said fine.

When he texted her late at night, the notifications buzzing until 2:00 AM, I simply rolled over and pretended not to hear.

I had shrunk myself down to almost nothing just to avoid annoying him.

But now, I was exhausted. I was done shrinking.

"Have you been wanting a divorce for a long time?" he suddenly asked.

I thought about it and nodded. "Pretty much."

"Since when?"

"About a year ago."

His face finally cracked.

"A year ago? You've wanted a divorce since last year?"

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you say anything?"

"I did. Did you ever listen?"

He opened his mouth but couldn't find any words.

"A year ago, I told you Brooke was coming over too often. You told me I was making a big deal out of nothing."

"Six months ago, I brought it up again. You called me petty and said she was like family to you, telling me to stop being so jealous."

"Last month, I told you for the third time. You slammed the door, walked out, and stayed at Brooke's place the entire night."

"Ethan, I told you three times. You never took me seriously, not even once."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his lips trembling before he managed to mutter, "I thought you were just venting."

"Right. You thought I was just venting."

I stood up and set my water bottle on the table.

"Just like you 'thought' Brooke walked into the wrong room, 'thought' her wearing your shirt was an accident, and 'thought' her posting photos on Instagram with her arm around your shoulder was just 'sibling love'."

"You 'think' a lot of things."

"Now I'm giving you a chance to think about what's actually real."

I turned to walk toward the study.

His voice chased after me. "Where are you going?"

"To work."

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now. Unlike you, I don't have a company that runs itself while I text my girl bestie until 2:00 AM."

The next morning, I woke up at 7:00 AM.

After washing up and changing, I walked out of the bedroom. Ethan was already sitting at the dining table.

On the table was a box of fresh bagels, cream cheese, and two cups of hot coffee.

Seeing me walk out, he pointed to the seat opposite him. "Let's eat breakfast."

I glanced at him, said nothing, and sat down.

The aroma of freshly toasted bagels filled the room.

"Did you make this?" I asked.

"I bought them. From that bakery down the street. Didn't you say you love their bagels?"

I took a bite. It was indeed from my favorite local spot.

"Thanks."

His eyes lit up slightly, clearly surprised by my polite response.

"Sure."

We finished our breakfast in silence.

I put down my napkin, wiped my hands, and stood up.

He stopped me. "What do you want for dinner tonight? I can..."

"No need. Eat by yourself."

I grabbed my bag, slipped on my heels, and walked out the door.