Chapter 3

Sarah straightened, her face smoothing into a neutral expression.

Michael hadn't heard. The System's interface was visible only to her, its voice a private whisper in her mind.

"Talking to yourself again, Sarah?" Michael asked, his tone laced with faint amusement and irritation.

"Just on the phone with... an old friend," Sarah improvised, thinking quickly. "Planning a... a charity bake sale."

It sounded ridiculous even to her own ears.

Michael scoffed. "Those busybody friends of yours. Always some pointless project."

He walked into their bedroom, tossing his jacket onto the bed, ignoring her meticulously kept rule about outdoor clothes on the bedspreads.

His disdain for anything that was solely hers was a constant, petty cruelty.

Sarah didn't argue. What was the point?

She was tired of fighting, tired of trying to make him see her.

He sat on the edge of the bed, watching her.

"You know, Sarah," he began, his voice suddenly softer, "I was thinking... maybe it's time we had another child."

He smiled, a charming, persuasive smile that used to make her heart melt.

"You've always wanted a daughter, haven't you? And Ethan needs a sibling."

He paused. "Of course, with a new baby, we'd have to... rehome Buddy. Allergies, you know. And safety."

Sarah cut him off. "Don't pretend this is a discussion, Michael. You've already decided."

His eyes narrowed. "It's for the baby's safety, Sarah. A cat, especially an old one like Buddy, can be unpredictable."

"No," Sarah said, her voice firm, surprising even herself. "I don't want another child."

Not with him. Not in this hollow shell of a marriage.

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. Guilt? Annoyance?

She saw it then. He wanted another child to prove something.

To prove he was a good man, a family man.

To bandage his guilt over Jessica, over what he was doing to her.

A new baby would be a new distraction, a new way to trap her.

"I want to go back to school, Michael," Sarah said, the words tumbling out. "I want to get a degree. Maybe law. I want a career."

It was a dream she had buried long ago, a dream he had casually dismissed.

Michael stared at her, then threw back his head and laughed.

A harsh, derisive sound.

"You? A lawyer? Sarah, be serious. You haven't worked in over a decade. You have no experience, no real education beyond that community college certificate. What makes you think you could handle it?"

He shook his head, still chuckling. "You need me. You wouldn't last a week out there on your own."

Anger, cold and sharp, pierced through Sarah's detachment.

"And why is that, Michael? Because I'm stupid? Incapable? Is that what you think of me?"

He looked surprised by her vehemence, then his expression hardened.

"Don't be dramatic, Sarah. I'm just being realistic. You're too soft. You've been spoiled. You can't handle the truth."

The truth.

She saw the truth clearly now.

There was no point in arguing. He would never see her, never value her.

She turned to the closet and pulled out a small overnight bag.

She packed a few essentials, her movements calm and deliberate.

"I'm going to stay at a hotel tonight," she said, her voice even.

She needed space. She needed to think.

Or perhaps, she just needed to be away from him, from the suffocating weight of his contempt.