Chapter 3
Benjamin's pupils contracted sharply. He stared at the snapped SIM card, like he'd watched something precious get completely destroyed. He wanted to say something, but his throat was blocked. All he could do was let out a hoarse, strangled sound.
Benjamin pointed at me, his hand shaking.
"What about me?" I looked at him, my heart steady as a rock. "Benjamin, the moment you took those things out of this house without asking me, it was over between us.
"That card was your last link to your precious Laura. I cut it for you. You're welcome."
The movers worked fast. The living room was already half-empty, and I could hear them dismantling the bed frame in the bedroom. This home was coming apart. Where it used to be warm and welcoming, it was now chaotic and wrecked.
Benjamin looked like he'd been pushed over the edge. He suddenly charged at the movers hauling the sofa. "Don't touch that. Put it down.
"This is my house. Who the hell do you think you are, moving my stuff?" He was like a raging bull, trying to block their way.
Henry shot a look, and two burly movers immediately stepped in, one on each side, grabbing Benjamin and holding him back.
"Sir, please calm down. We're doing our job," one of the movers said.
Benjamin struggled desperately, veins bulging in his neck. "Let me go. This is my house. Get out," he screamed at me. "I'm going to sue you for stealing my stuff."
I watched Benjamin flail around. Honestly, it was kind of pathetic. "Benjamin, did you seriously forget whose name is on the deed? When you moved in, you signed a prenup, ring a bell?
"It spells it out clear as day. This house, every piece of furniture, every appliance, all of it is mine. You don't own a single thing here."
Benjamin froze. The rage on his face faded, replaced by confusion and a creeping fear. He remembered now. Before we got married, my parents made him sign that agreement because they didn't want me to get screwed over.
He signed it without blinking, to marry me. Bet he thought it was some useless paperwork. He figured once we tied the knot, everything I had would automatically be his.
"So yeah, I'm reclaiming what's mine," I said, stepping right up to him. "And you? It's time for you to get out of my house."
Benjamin's body went limp, and if the movers hadn't been holding him up, he would've collapsed right there. "No, you can't do this," he muttered. "We're husband and wife. How could you treat me like this?"
"Husband and wife?" I repeated, my voice icy. "When you sacrificed our kids' future for Laura, did you ever think about us being married?
"When your mom got sick, and I sold the gold bracelet my mom gave me to help cover her surgery costs, did you ever say we were husband and wife?
"When you secretly drained our savings to buy a spot in a good school district for Laura's son, did you remember we were married?"
With every word I said, Benjamin's face grew paler. He thought he'd covered his tracks perfectly. He thought I was still that naive girl who could be won over with a few sweet words.
"I-I was—" Benjamin tried to defend himself.
"Enough," I cut him off. "Benjamin, I gave you a chance. After you moved all that stuff out, if you'd come back, apologized, and promised to get it back, maybe I would've hesitated.
"But you didn't. You chose to lie and try to guilt-trip me instead. From that moment on, you were dead to me."
I turned away, not sparing him a glance. "Henry, show him the door."
"Yes, Ms. Lynn," Henry said, waving his hand. The two movers hauled Benjamin out, dragging him toward the door.
"No. You can't do this. This is my house. I'm not leaving. Margaret, I was wrong. Please, give me one more chance. I'll get everything back right now. I swear." Benjamin's cries and pleas echoed through the empty room.
The door swung open, then slammed shut. Finally, the world was quiet.
I walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains. Down below, Benjamin had been left by the flower bed at the edge of the apartment complex. He struggled to his feet, shouting up at me, but his voice couldn't reach me anymore.
*****
Three big moving trucks pulled up. All my stuff got packed up and loaded without a hitch.
Finally, Henry walked over. "Ms. Lynn, everything's moved out. some junk you don't want left behind, and that wedding photo on the wall..." He pointed at the huge picture.
In it, I was smiling with pure happiness, Benjamin holding me with gentle eyes. Looking at it now, it was nothing but bitter irony.
"Take it down and throw it away," I said.
"Will do," Henry replied. The movers quickly took the wedding photo off the wall, and as they did, the glass in the frame shattered with a sharp crash, like my marriage, broken in a single moment.
An hour later, the house was stripped bare. Only the shell remained, walls and floors, nothing else. It felt unfamiliar, cold as ice.
I gave the place one last look, then headed downstairs with Henry.
As I got into my dad's car, my phone buzzed with a bank notification. I'd transferred every last cent from our joint account to my own card, 90 thousand dollars.
That was every penny we'd saved over the past three years. Or rather, every penny I'd saved. Most of Benjamin's salary had gone straight to his family.
The car slowly pulled away. In the rearview mirror, I saw Benjamin still begging down there, his head buried in his arms, looking like an abandoned child. Did I feel sorry for him? Maybe. But honestly, I didn't feel a thing.