He was going to lie in court. He was going to accuse me of things I never did. Just to push me out.
For Claire. And a baby who wasn’t even his. Claire.
The quiet, soft-spoken woman I remembered only in flashes from Mark’s memorial. She had seemed kind. Fragile.
I never imagined she would come back into our lives like this. Not as the woman replacing me. Not as the mother of the child my husband planned to call his own.
How’s the baby doing? Brian asked then, his voice suddenly light. Almost happy. Strong, Linda answered proudly.
Claire says he’s growing fast. Looks just like Mark. Same eyes, same laugh.
You’ll see soon enough. The room started spinning. They were building a new family.
Brian, Claire, the baby, and Linda, of course. Always Linda. The perfect little unit.
And in their minds, I was already gone. Just paperwork. Just one final conversation.
I’ll tell her tonight, Brian said. She’s already on edge after losing her job. It’s the perfect time.
I’ll play the sympathetic card. Say it’s better for both of us. Offer her a bit of cash to walk away.
Linda snorted. Push the pity. Make her feel like a burden.
She’ll cave. Women like her always do. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.
But even through the pain, I smiled to myself. Just barely. Because they didn’t know the truth.
I hadn’t been fired. I had been promoted. And they had no idea that their plan was already falling apart.
I stayed crouched behind the door long after they stopped talking. I didn’t move when I heard the couch creak or the front door close behind Linda. I just sat there, hugging my knees.
Heart hammering so loud I thought it would give me away. My body was frozen. But my mind, my mind was burning.
This wasn’t just betrayal. This was war. And I’d walked right into it, unarmed, unaware, until now.
But I wasn’t going to be a casualty. Not quietly. Not ever.
That night, I didn’t speak to Brian. He acted like nothing had happened. He poured himself a drink.
Watched the game. Glanced at me with that carefully neutral expression that now seemed so grotesque. I didn’t look at him.
I didn’t trust myself, too. Because if I did, I might break the illusion. And I needed that illusion, at least for a little while longer.
In bed. I lay still with my eyes open, my back to him. He fell asleep quickly, like always, as if the day hadn’t included plotting to erase me from his life.
I listened to his breathing and planned. The next morning, I left the house before sunrise. I didn’t go to work.
Not right away. I went to the storage closet where we kept old documents. Warranties, receipts, contracts, tax papers.
I pulled everything I could find. I needed proof. Evidence that I had contributed to that house.
That I had invested in it with my own money, not just my presence. The new water heater. My bonus paid for it.
The custom cabinetry in the kitchen. My design, my deposit. I dug out bank statements.
Delivery invoices. Furniture receipts. I packed them all into a box, then into a bag, and drove across town to the only person I trusted.
Emily. Emily Barnes wasn’t just a colleague. She was my friend.
For years, we’d been each other’s sanity during late nights at the office. She knew my coffee order, my birthday, the name of the stray cat I once tried to adopt and failed miserably. Most importantly, she’d never once betrayed me.
Not even with gossip. And that made her invaluable now. When I showed up at her door, she didn’t ask questions.
She just looked at me for a moment, then stepped aside. I need a favor, I whispered. Say no more, she said.
In her kitchen. I placed the documents on her table. If anything happens, if I disappear, if I stop answering calls, give this to my lawyer.
She raised an eyebrow but said nothing. I’m not being paranoid, I added, seeing the concern in her face. But I can’t take any risks.
Emily nodded slowly. You’re scaring me a little. But okay, whatever you need.
I exhaled, the tension in my chest loosening just a bit. I hadn’t told her everything. Not about Claire, not about the baby, not yet.
But she understood enough. That something was deeply wrong. That I needed her.
And for now, that was enough. As I drove back home, I passed by the park where Brian and I used to walk on Sundays. I remembered how he used to hold my hand.
How he once looked at me like I was his entire world. That man, that version of him was dead. The one waiting at home for me now.
He was a stranger in familiar skin. And tonight, that stranger was going to sit me down, look me in the eye, and ask me to disappear. He had no idea that I was already planning how to make sure it would be him, who lost everything.
When I walked through the front door that evening, I knew it was coming. The conversation, the performance. He’d rehearsed it in his mind.
I could see it on his face. That forced concern, the artificial heaviness in his shoulders. Brian Carter was about to pretend to be the good guy in his own betrayal.
Hey, he said, voice low, careful. We should talk. I gave him a tired smile.
Just enough to look worn down. Just enough to keep him confident. Sure, I replied, dropping my bag by the door.
What’s going on? He gestured to the living room, already set up like a scene from a play. He dimmed the lights. Two glasses of wine sat on the coffee table.
He even had a blanket draped over the armrest. Like this was going to be some soft, mutual discussion. Like he was doing me a favor by dismantling my life gently.
I sat. He took the armchair across from me, lacing his fingers together, letting out a sigh so theatrical I nearly laughed. Rachel, he began.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About us. About where we are.
And I think we’ve grown apart. I kept my eyes on the wine glass, nodding slightly. Okay, I don’t want this to be ugly, he continued, leaning forward.
I don’t want lawyers or courtrooms. I just think it’s time we both admitted this marriage isn’t working anymore. He sounded heartbroken, like he was the victim.
Like this decision was tearing him apart inside. I mean, with you being out of work now, he added gently, maybe this is a good time for a fresh start. For both of us.
My stomach turned. I let my bottom lip tremble, just slightly. Are you saying divorce? He nodded, reaching for his wine like he deserved to take a victory sip.
Yeah, but amicable. Civil, I don’t want to fight. I’m willing to help you get on your feet.
You’ll need a place to stay, obviously. And some money to get settled. I tilted my head, just enough to seem fragile.
You’d do that for me? Of course, he said, placing a hand on his chest like some kind of savior. I care about you, Rachel. I just, I don’t think we’re right for each other anymore.