Chapter 4

My husband was waiting for me at our anniversary dinner.

I was searching his study for the divorce papers he had signed.

Our reservation card stood beside his monitor. He had circled the time in blue ink.

Callum Reed.

The same signature I had watched him write while his friends laughed.

Then I took the folder downstairs.

Caroline had reviewed a copy with me that afternoon. She had explained what the document could and could not do. My signature would not finish the divorce.

But I no longer needed Callum to believe I meant it before I could begin.

I signed, dated the page, and made a copy.

Then I put his folder in the center of the dining table.

My phone buzzed.

Callum had sent a photograph from the restaurant. His glass was full. The chair across from him was empty.

[I am at the restaurant. They seated me at our table. Where are you?]

I checked the time.

Seven thirty.

He was sitting in the VIP room he thought I would never cancel. He thought I was putting on makeup. He thought I was picking out a pretty dress for him.

He was so sure I would never miss our anniversary. He was so sure I could not live without him.

I locked the screen. The signed agreement and my absence would answer him.

In the bedroom, I closed my suitcase and pulled it off the bed.

My documents, medication, and laptop were already packed.

I checked the bathroom once, took my toothbrush, and shut the cabinet.

Callum called.

I silenced it.

A message followed.

[Did you forget what day it is?]

Another message appeared.

[If this is about the other night, we've been through this.]

He did not know which night mattered.

He could mean Tessa or another missed dinner. He could not mean the party. He had no idea I had watched him sign.

I opened the folder on the table to the signature page. I placed the ring right on top of his bold signature.

Beside it, I placed the hotel parking receipt.

Two nights at Briar Lake Lodge. The weekend he had told me he was visiting a supplier.

Then I added the printed photographs from Tessa's profile.

The terrace. Their breakfast. His watch and car keys.

I kept copies of everything in my bag.

Caroline's contact details went on top of my written notice that I was moving out and proceeding with the separation.

A car honked outside.

Nora was waiting in the driveway.

I grabbed my suitcase handle. The wheels rolled across the hardwood floor.

Before I left, I looked back at the dining table one last time.

The separation agreement lay open to the final page.

Callum's signature was already there.

Mine was beside it.

My wedding ring rested on top.

Two months ago, I had carried that same paper in tears.

Callum had carried it to a party and signed it to make his friends laugh.

My phone buzzed again.

[Don't embarrass me, Sienna. The waiter keeps asking.]

I stared at the words.

Then I remembered exactly what he had told them after signing his name.

Even if she sees it, she will still have dinner with me this Friday.

It was Friday.

Callum was sitting at our anniversary table, waiting for the wife he was certain would come.

I pulled the front door shut.

Click.

Nora looked at my suitcase, then at me.

"Ready?"

"Drive."

Her car pulled away from the house.

Callum called again.

I declined it.

He had signed our separation agreement because he thought my leaving was a joke.

Tonight, when he finally came home from our anniversary dinner, he would find my signature beside his.

But he would not find me.