Chapter 4

My husband sent me a photograph of a crib while I was taking off my wedding ring.

"What do you think?"

I looked at the picture.

White wood. Rounded corners. The model I'd asked him to see weeks ago.

He had finally made time.

I slid the ring over my knuckle.

My sister stood beside my suitcase. She watched me put it on the table.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

It was Friday afternoon.

Ethan was waiting at the baby store.

I packed my ID, my laptop, and my prenatal medical records. I carefully folded the tiny baby clothes I took back from the new house yesterday.

I left his expensive gifts. I left the dresses he bought me. Eight years of marriage fit into one single suitcase.

I placed the separation agreement on the center of the table.

His bold signature was already on the last page. He had signed it while his friends laughed. He signed it to prove how easily he controlled me.

I picked up a pen.

I signed my name right beside his.

I dated the page.

Then, I placed my wedding ring directly on top of his bold signature.

Beside it, I placed the silver key. The key to the new house.

Three weeks ago, he had promised me a home.

This week, I had collected my baby's clothes from the space Natalie was using.

On top of the key, I left a small, handwritten note.

"I heard every word in the VIP room. I also went to the new house."

My phone buzzed.

Ethan sent a photograph from the store.

[Where are you?]

I checked the time.

He was standing in the baby section. He thought I was getting dressed. He thought I was just running late.

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

Ethan called.

I silenced it.

A text message followed.

[Are you tired?]

Another message appeared.

[That is okay. Pregnancy is hard. I will just order this one. See you at home tonight.]

He thought it was just a missed appointment. He firmly believed I would be waiting for him at home.

He thought we would discuss colors and delivery times.

He had no idea I was leaving the key beside his signature.

My sister lifted the suitcase.

I walked out and pulled the front door shut.

Click.

I got into Nora's car.

"Ready?" Nora asked.

"Drive," I said.

As the car pulled away from the house, my phone started ringing.

It was Ethan.

I muted the call and watched his name flash until the screen went dark.

The separation agreement lay open to the final page.

Ethan's signature was already there.

Mine was beside it.

Last month, I had carried that same paper in tears.

He had carried it to a party and signed it as a joke.

Tonight, when he finally came home from the store, he would find my signature beside his.

But he would not find me.