Chapter 3
On Monday, Henry came home early from work.
He had a document in his hand, and there was a look on his face I couldn't quite read.
"Natalie," he said, setting the document down on the coffee table. "Take a look at this."
I picked it up and flipped through the pages. It was a divorce agreement.
Under the property division section, it said, "The wife agrees to give up her share of everything they owned together."
I stared at that line, speechless for a long time.
"Just sign it," Henry said, settling onto the couch. "I'm letting you walk away with some dignity."
"Dignity?" I met his gaze.
"You don't want this to turn ugly, right?" Henry said calmly. "Let's part ways peacefully."
I kept quiet.
"Honestly, you haven't really contributed anything to this family all these years," Henry said, lighting a cigarette.
"My parents paid for the house. I bought the car. Your paycheck barely covered your own spending. You're leaving with nothing because you brought nothing. That's not unfair. That's just the truth."
I just stared at him.
"Besides," he said, exhaling smoke, "if you make a fuss, nobody wins. No need to air our dirty laundry in public. You get what I mean."
I laid the agreement aside.
"I'll think about it," I said quietly.
"What's there to think about?" Henry frowned.
"Just need to think about it," I said as I stood up. "I'm going to make dinner."
Henry's face darkened, but he didn't say another word.
After dinner, Henry left the house. He said he had some business drinks to attend.
I just sat there in the living room, staring at that divorce agreement lying on the coffee table.
He wanted me to agree to give up my share of everything we owned together.
Somehow, I remembered when we first got married.
Henry said, "Baby, from now on, I'll provide for you."
I said, "Okay."
But for five years, I paid the bills. I handled the groceries, the meals, and the house. Every birthday, every holiday. Sharon's gift, Gary's gift. That was always me.
Where did all of Henry's money even go?
I kept thinking about those twins.
One year old.
How much money did Henry spend every month on raising two kids and their mother?
I grabbed my phone, opened up the notes app, and started crunching the numbers.
Baby formula, diapers, clothes, and toys...
And then there was her living expenses on top of that.
That was about 10,000 dollars every month.
So in two years, that was like 200,000 dollars, easy.
No wonder Henry kept saying money was always tight these past few years.
I closed the notes app and stood up.
Sharon left a key behind as she walked out.
It was for Carter Villa. She'd asked me to get a new copy made last time she came over to change the locks, and I never got around to returning it.
I stood there, turning the key in my hand, just staring at it, lost in thought.
Then I grabbed my coat and headed out the door.
Sharon lived in Carter Villa, which was on the east side of town, about twenty minutes away.
I pulled up just before nine o'clock. The lights in the living room were still on.
I didn't bother knocking. I let myself in with the key.
Sharon was sitting on the couch, talking on the phone.
"Alright, alright, Grandma will come see you tomorrow. Be good—" she said.
Her face fell the moment she saw me.
"Natalie? Why are you here?" she blurted out.
"Just dropping off your key," I said, placing it on the cabinet by the door.
She hung up in a hurry. "Have you had dinner? Want some water?"
"No, thanks," I said, my eyes fixed on the phone in her hand. "Who was that you were just talking to?"
"No one important," she muttered, stuffing her phone into her pocket.
"I heard who it was," I said.
Her hand stopped mid-motion.
"Grandma will come see you tomorrow," I said slowly, word by word. "When did you become their grandma?"
Her expression twisted.
"Natalie, let me explain—" she said.
"I don't want to hear it," I cut her off. "I just want to see one thing."
"What?" she shot back.
"The messages on your phone," I said.
She immediately gripped her pocket tighter.
"There's nothing to see," she said.
"Then I'll look for it myself," I shot back.
I stepped toward her.
"Natalie!" she blurted, backing away.
I reached into her pocket and grabbed her phone.
"What do you think you're doing?" she blurted out.
I entered the password. It was Henry's birthday. Everyone in the family knew it.
There was a pinned chat right at the top.
The contact name? "Nessa."
I tapped it open.
The chat history stretched on and on. I started scrolling back, checking each message one by one.
Three months ago, "Nessa" sent a picture of the twins playing on the swings at the park. Sharon replied with three smiley faces, "My little angels."
Half a year ago, "Nessa" said the kids had a fever. Sharon answered, "I'm coming over right now."
A year ago, "Nessa" messaged that she'd just gotten out of the hospital after giving birth. Sharon replied, "Take care of yourself. I'll cook up some chicken soup for you."
I kept scrolling back.
Two years ago, "Nessa" said she was pregnant with twins. Sharon replied, "That's amazing! Henry finally has heirs."
Back then, I was still making hospital visits for post-op checkups after my hysteroscopy.
I went back and found the very first message in the chat history.
Three years ago, "Nessa" messaged, "Mrs. Carter, Henry and I are together now."
Sharon replied, "That's wonderful. You're family now."
Three years ago.
Henry and I had been married for less than two years.
I handed the phone back to Sharon.
Her face went completely white.
"Natalie, please, let me explain—" she said.
"Don't bother," I replied, my voice steady. "I know everything."
I turned and walked out, not looking back.
"Natalie!" she called out, hurrying after me. "Please. Don't tell anyone. This stays between us."
I stopped in my tracks.
"This?" I turned to look at her.
"I mean—" she started, but I cut her off.
"When you talk about 'this,' do you mean your son keeping a mistress and having kids with her, or me being kept in the dark and played for a fool for three years?"
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
"Don't worry," I said, pulling the door open. "I won't tell anyone."
I walked out into the night, letting the darkness swallow me whole.