Chapter 5
The morning sun had barely risen when I started tearing through every drawer and cabinet in the house.
I emptied each one like I was digging through a life that no longer belonged to me -dusty trinkets, dried–up perfume bottles, fading anniversary receipts, old love notes that meant nothing now. I gathered every single “gift” Elias had ever given me: poorly thought–out jewelry, stilettos that never fit, cheap fragrances in shiny wrapping.
I threw them all in the trash.
The wedding album was last. The one Evelyn had “so graciously” put together, complete with golden script and fake poetic captions. It sat in my lap for a second while I debated.
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But then I remembered the way Elias called me worthless, the way Evelyn flashed her smug smile like she already owned my life.
I dropped the album into the metal barrel out back and struck a match.
He didn’t even notice. He was outside with Evelyn, laughing and sipping wine like we weren’t flat broke. I overheard bits of their conversation–talk of Norway, luxurious fur, and Evelyn’s latest obsession with some influencer’s ice hotel tour.
Everyone in that house was giddy, practically buzzing with excitement.
Even Julian–the same kid I used to tuck in at night and make meals for when everyone else ignored him–looked at me with a sneer as I handed him a glass of juice.
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“This isn’t your place,” he mumbled, barely loud enough to hear.
I didn’t react.
I just went back to the stove. Stirred the soup. Plated their food. Folded the napkins just right. Cooked Evelyn’s steak to her perfect medium–rare and reheated her espresso just the way she liked.
Not a single thank you.
Later that night, Elias did something rare. He came into the kitchen alone and handed me an ice pack.
“For your back,” he said, like it meant something.
Then came the false remorse.
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“I’m sorry for snapping the other day. I just don’t want you acting jealous.”
Jealous. That’s what he called it?
He gave me a thin smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring you back a souvenir. Maybe a keychain from Norway.”
A keychain. After twenty years.
He looked around the room and said, “Double–check everything, alright? Make sure the chargers, coats, Evelyn’s medication, and her extra heels are all packed.”
“I’ve already taken care of it,” I said quietly.
He nodded and patted my arm like I was the help. “Good. We’ll see you when we’re back.”
Then he shouted toward the hallway, “Evelyn,
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let’s go! We’ll miss the flight!”
She strutted out like she was heading to a movie premiere.
“Oh, Sophia,” she said in that syrupy voice. “I’ll bring you something nice. Maybe those chocolates you like.”
Scarlett chimed in with a scoff, “Don’t waste your money, Aunt Evelyn. She can’t afford those anyway”
I forced a smile and kept quiet.
They all piled into the SUV. Julian didn’t even glance at me. Evelyn tossed her luggage in like royalty. Elias barked out a few final orders I didn’t bother to absorb.
And then they were gone.
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The moment the gate clicked shut behind them, something in me shifted.
I moved quickly.
I grabbed the boxes I had hidden weeks ago and filled them with only what mattered- legal papers, my passport, the old photo albums of my parents, my notebook of poems, a few clothes. I changed every lock. Reset every code. Pulled the curtains closed.
Next, I pulled out the finalized divorce documents–signed, sealed, and no longer just a threat.
I laid them out neatly on the dining table, right in the spot he was bound to notice the moment he walked back in.
I removed my wedding ring and set it down gently on top of the paperwork.
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Then, right next to it, I placed the chocolate cake I’d baked earlier that morning.
In bright red frosting, I had written:
“Happy Divorce, My Husband!”
I wheeled my suitcase out the front door and didn’t look back. The limousine I had arranged was waiting at the curb.
The driver tipped his head politely and loaded my bags.
I slid into the back seat, leaned against the leather interior, and watched the house vanish in the rearview mirror.
That mansion I once dreamed would be my home–nothing but a gilded cage built on
lies.
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Halfway to the airport, my phone buzzed.
It is Elias.
Elias: “Don’t leave. If you walk out without permission, I swear you’ll regret it. Be a good dog.”
I didn’t respond.
Another message came.
Elias.“Where’s Evelyn’s scarf? She told you to pack it. You ruined her mood. Bring it to the airport. Now.”
My finger hovered over the screen. I read the messages again–commands, not words. Orders to someone he didn’t see as human.
I typed slowly:
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“I’m not bringing it. I’m not your maid anymore. You regret marrying me? Then know this–I regret wasting my life on you. Goodbye.”
I hit send.
Then I blocked his number, pulled out the SIM card, and flung it out the window.
By the time we reached the terminal, the sky had turned a soft pink.
And just like that, my new life began.
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