Chapter 3

Olivia was gone for a few days on another "urgent" business trip. I used the time. I met with Grace Chen. I started separating my finances. I moved my few boxes from the garage into the spare bedroom. The house felt different, lighter. It was no longer my home; it was just a place I was preparing to leave.

She came back on a Thursday afternoon, walking into the house while I was in the kitchen making coffee. The air immediately grew thick with tension.

"You're still on that couch?" she said, dropping her briefcase by the door. It wasn't a question. It was an accusation. "Liam was back at work two days after his concussion. Some people have a stronger work ethic, I guess."

I didn't turn around. I just listened to the drip of the coffee maker. The old Ethan would have defended himself, would have pointed out his shattered leg. The new me didn't care enough to argue. Her words were just noise now.

My silence seemed to bother her more than any argument would have.

"Are you deaf? I'm talking to you."

"I heard you," I said, pouring coffee into a mug.

"Well? Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

I turned and looked at her. I gave a small shrug. "You're right. Liam is very dedicated."

She was clearly thrown off. She expected a fight, a reaction. She didn't know how to handle my placid agreement. Her face shifted, the aggression melting away into a kind of practiced, manipulative warmth. It was a tactic I'd seen her use in business meetings a hundred times.

"Look, I'm sorry," she said, her voice softening. "I'm just stressed. This whole situation has been a lot to handle."

She came closer, reaching out to touch my arm. "I was thinking, that trip to Italy we were planning for our anniversary... I'm going to have to cancel. Work is just too insane right now."

She watched my face, waiting for the disappointment, for the flicker of hurt she was so used to seeing. It was a test.

"Okay," I said, taking a sip of my coffee.

Her smile faltered. "Okay? That's it? You're not... upset?"

"Should I be?" I asked. "It's just a trip. Work is important."

I was using her own logic against her, and it was making her visibly uncomfortable. She didn't understand this version of me. This version was not playing by her rules.

She tried a different approach, stepping into my space and running her hand up my chest. "You know, we haven't... been together in a while."

Her touch felt alien. My skin crawled. I felt a wave of physical repulsion so strong I had to fight the urge to step back. The thought of her touching me after what I knew made my stomach churn.

"I have to take my pain medication," I said, using it as an excuse to move away from her. "The doctor said to take it with food."

She let her hand drop, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes. She covered it quickly with a sigh.

"You know, Ethan, I've been very patient with you," she said, her voice dripping with faux magnanimity. "With your moods, with this whole injury. Most women wouldn't be this understanding."

The irony was staggering. She was praising her own patience while I was standing there, knowing she had been pregnant with another man's child. I almost laughed.

I ignored her comment and started looking through the mail on the counter. Bills, junk mail, and a large envelope from Chen Law Offices. I slipped it under a magazine before she could see it.

My mind wasn't on her or her games anymore. It was on my conversation with Grace Chen. It was on the plane ticket I had booked online last night. A one-way ticket to a small coastal town I'd always wanted to visit, a place Olivia had always dismissed as "boring" and "beneath us."

My phone buzzed. A text from her. Even though she was standing ten feet away.

"Don't forget to take out the trash tonight. The recyclables are overflowing."

It was so automatic for her. I was part of the household maintenance schedule. Broken leg or not, the duties remained.

I didn't reply. I was already gone. I was thinking about the kind of coffee I would drink in my new town, the books I would finally have time to read, the life I would build that had nothing to do with her.

I walked out of the kitchen, heading for the spare room to continue packing.

"Where are you going?" she called after me.

"To get my divorce papers," I thought.

"To rest my leg," I said.