Chapter 2

The whispers followed Sarah down the hall.

"So devoted to his brother's family."

"Sarah must be so understanding."

Understanding. She was tired of understanding.

At the faculty meeting that afternoon, Jessica Evans was there, a guest presenter discussing new literacy programs.

Mark, surprisingly, was also present, leaning against the back wall in his civilian clothes, clearly there for moral support.

Jessica, catching sight of Sarah, gave a small, nervous smile.

Mark strode over. "Jessica's a bit nervous," he muttered to Sarah, as if explaining his presence. "Just wanted to make sure she felt supported."

He then turned to Jessica, his voice louder, for public consumption. "You'll do great, Jess."

During a break, Jessica approached Sarah, a cup of lukewarm coffee in her hand.

"Sarah, dear," Jessica began, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Mark told me you were so gracious about the Chicago opportunity. It means the world to me, really. Especially with Leo needing stability."

She placed a hand on Sarah's arm.

Sarah stiffened. Gracious?

Before Sarah could correct her, Mark joined them, his arm going around Jessica's shoulders.

"See, Sarah?" Mark said, looking pointedly at her. "Jessica appreciates it. Some people understand what it means to support family, to not be so... possessive about things."

The implication was clear. Sarah was petty. Ungenerous.

A hot flush of anger rose in Sarah, but she pushed it down.

What was the point?

"Yes," Sarah said, her voice flat. "Family is important."

She gently removed Jessica's hand from her arm.

"Excuse me," she said, and walked away, leaving them standing there.

That evening, Sarah was home, trying to grade papers, when Mark walked in.

He was carrying a small, brightly wrapped box.

Her stomach twisted. She knew that look on his face – the prelude to an outrageous request.

"Sarah," he began, a little too casually. "I was talking to Jessica today."

Of course he was.

"She's really trying to make a good impression, you know, with everything. Trying to get her career back on track if this Chicago thing... well, if any new job comes up."

He fiddled with the box.

"And she was saying how she doesn't have much... nice things. For interviews, or just to feel good about herself."

Sarah waited, her pen still poised over a paper.

"So, I was thinking," Mark continued, finally getting to the point. "Your grandmother's jewelry. The pearl necklace, the earrings. You never wear them. And they're just sitting in your drawer."

Sarah's breath caught. Her grandmother's pearls. Her only significant inheritance.

"You want me to give my grandmother's jewelry to Jessica?" she asked, her voice dangerously quiet.

"Well, not give, exactly. Lend? Or, you know, she needs it more right now. It would mean a lot to her. And it's about family helping family, right?"

He was actually serious.

"No," Sarah said, interrupting him before he could build more steam. "Absolutely not. Those were my grandmother's. They're mine."

Mark's face hardened. "Don't be like that, Sarah. It's just jewelry. Jessica is struggling. It's about showing support, being part of a family unit."

"My future security?" Sarah almost choked on the words. "What about that? Those pearls are all I have from her, Mark. They have value. Sentimental and actual."

In her past life, she'd cried, argued, and eventually, worn down by his accusations of pettiness, she'd given them to Jessica. Jessica had promptly "lost" them.

"I'll always take care of you, Sarah! You don't need to worry about things like that!" Mark said, his voice booming with false reassurance. "I'm your husband. I'm your security."

Lies. All lies.

She remembered the cold, empty apartment after he'd left her, the bills piling up, the fear.

"No, Mark," she said, her voice firm, unyielding. "The jewelry stays with me."

His eyes narrowed. "Fine. Be selfish. I'll just give Jessica my next few drill checks. She needs the help, even if her own sister-in-law won't lift a finger."

He was trying to guilt her with money now.

He stormed out of the room, grabbing a bag of chips from the counter on his way, the crinkling of the bag an exclamation point to his anger.

Sarah didn't try to stop him. She knew it was useless.

In her past life, he'd drained their joint accounts for Jessica, bought Jessica a car, paid for Leo's private school, all while telling Sarah they needed to "tighten their belts."

It had culminated in her dying alone, in a charity hospital, from a preventable illness because she couldn't afford proper care. He hadn't even come to her funeral. Jessica had sent a perfunctory card.

He had never been her provider, not really. He'd provided for Jessica.

The memory left a bitter taste in her mouth. She pushed her papers away, her appetite gone.

Mark came back late, hours later. Sarah was in bed, pretending to be asleep.

He slid in beside her, the mattress dipping.

"Sarah?" he whispered.

She didn't respond.

He sighed. "Look, I talked to Jessica. She... she said I was being too harsh about the jewelry. She told me to apologize."

Sarah's eyes snapped open in the darkness, though she kept her back to him. Jessica, the peacemaker, after getting what she wanted indirectly.

"She said you're probably just stressed about the Chicago job falling through for her," Mark continued, his voice softer now, trying to be conciliatory.

The familiar rage simmered. He listened to Jessica. Never to her.

"I'll make it up to you," he said. "Your birthday's next week, right? I'll get you something nice. Something really nice."

He was trying to buy her off, smooth things over, probably at Jessica's suggestion.

Sarah turned slowly to face him in the dim light filtering from the hallway.

"Mark," she said, her voice devoid of any warmth. "I want a divorce."