Chapter 5

Taking out the trash, I ran into Linda.

She noticed my eyes and took me inside, rolling a cold spoon over the bruises under my eyes.

She looked at me, her own eyes brimming with tears. “Does it hurt?”

Her kindness brought back memories of Dan from when we were first married.

Back then, Dan and I had nothing. Living in San Francisco was expensive, and we could only afford a tiny basement apartment on the outskirts.

Our bathroom and kitchen were communal, and we slept on a small twin bed.

One day, after cooking in the shared kitchen, I accidentally ran into someone in the hall. In my reflex to avoid them, I burned the back of my hand with hot food.

When Dan came home, I wore gloves to hide it, not wanting him to worry, but he noticed immediately. I tried to laugh it off, saying it didn’t hurt.

Dan, frantic, rushed to get me first aid. He cried so hard, his tears wouldn’t stop.

I teased him, saying, “What kind of man cries so much?”

He replied through sobs, “Evely, I’ll make sure you never suffer again!”

That night, he held me close, promising all the beautiful things we’d do together.

“Evely, I won’t ever let you get hurt again.”

I believed then he truly loved me.

But when did he change?

Now, it feels like we’re two ticking time bombs, bound together, ready to explode at the slightest friction.

Except Dan is a dud—no noise, just a silent smoke that fills every corner, choking me in fear, making me scream.

Returning home, I found the place empty.

The kitchen was cold, Tyler’s dirty clothes scattered across the wet bathroom floor, muddy footprints tracked through the living room.

I sank onto the couch and opened my laptop.

I started drafting the divorce papers.

I didn’t lack qualifications compared to Dan.

Before becoming a stay-at-home mom, I was a college grad, passed the bar, and worked as an attorney for two years.

I once earned a good salary, winning cases and thriving in my career.

Then, I got pregnant.

Dan convinced me to quit and focus on raising Tyler.

At first, he’d said:

“When your maternity leave’s over and Tyler’s a little older, we can hire a nanny. You can get back to work whenever you’re ready.”

Later, he changed it to:

“Tyler’s used to you now, and I’m in a career upswing. Going back would mean hiring a nanny, and her salary would eat up yours. It just doesn’t make sense for us financially.

“Let’s wait until Tyler’s a bit older.”

My son hugged mine and babbled for mommy.

I went soft.

Blame me for not insisting.

Thinking about it now, Dan's cold violence appeared a little bit from that time.

Having finished drafting the divorce agreement, I noticed it was almost evening.

Dan still hadn’t come home with Tyler.