Chapter 3

Chloe' s face contorted. "David's? Why? What are you talking about?"

"I need some space."

"Space?" Her voice rose again, hitting that shrill note I' d come to dread. "You' re the one who needs to give me space! I' m the patient here! I' m the one who made a sacrifice!"

She launched into a monologue, a torrent of self-pity and accusations.

How she would be a devoted wife from now on, how this ordeal had shown her what truly mattered.

How I was cold, unfeeling.

I didn't respond. I just continued packing, methodically folding shirts, pants.

Each item a small step away from her.

She yelled, "Are you even listening to me, Ethan? Look at me when I' m talking to you!"

For years, a demand like that would have made me stop, turn, apologize, try to soothe her.

Not anymore.

I zipped the suitcase.

I remembered all the times I' d changed my plans for her.

The concerts I' d missed, the friends I' d neglected, the career opportunities I' d let slide because "Chloe needs me," or "Chloe wouldn't like that."

I had made my world so small, revolving entirely around her.

And for what?

I walked out of the bedroom, suitcase in hand.

I didn' t go to David' s immediately.

Instead, I drove to a small park, one where Chloe and I had once talked about bringing our child.

I sat on a bench, the silence a welcome change.

The sacrifices I' d made, they weren' t noble. They were foolish.

They had bought me nothing but pain.

I finally arrived at David' s late, well past midnight.

He opened the door, his expression concerned.

"Man, you look like hell. What happened?"

His apartment was a comforting mess of books and takeout containers.

"Chloe..." I started, and the story tumbled out. The Instagram post. The baby. The bone marrow.

David listened, his usual joking demeanor gone, replaced by a quiet anger on my behalf.

"She did what?"

"She doesn't think she did anything wrong," I said, the exhaustion hitting me fully.

"Dude, that's... that's insane. And the baby..." He shook his head. "I'm so sorry, Ethan."

We talked for hours. Or rather, I talked, and he listened.

He mentioned how I' d been MIA for months, always busy with Chloe, always putting her first.

"We all missed you, man. It was like Chloe had you on a leash."

His words, though blunt, were true.

My disengagement now felt justified. My past sacrifices were not just worthless; they were enabling.

I stayed at David' s for two days. My phone was off.

When I finally returned to the house to pick up more things, Chloe was waiting.

She looked like she hadn't slept.

"Where have you been?" she demanded, her voice raw. "I've been calling you, texting you! I was worried sick!"

"I was at David's. I told you I needed space."

"Space?" She scoffed. "You just abandoned me, Ethan. You' re just upset because I chose Mark' s life."

Her condescension was palpable. She still believed she was the victim, and I was the one being unreasonable.

"Chloe," I said, my voice very calm, very steady. "This isn't about Mark's life. This is about our life. Our child's life. Which you ended."

"Don't you dare try to guilt-trip me!" she snapped. "It was a terrible choice, but I made it! And you should support me!"

She looked me up and down, her expression one of distaste. "You look terrible. You need a shower. And then you need to help me. I still can't do much."

I looked at her, really looked at her.

The woman I had loved, the woman I had built a life with.

She was a stranger.

Or maybe, I was the stranger for not seeing who she truly was all along.

"Chloe," I said, taking a slow breath. "I want a divorce."