Chapter 2

I recognized the woman right away.

Amy. Mark’s coworker. Just last month, she’d come over to our house for dinner, held my hand, and said how much she envied me for marrying such a wonderful husband.

Right now, she was sitting by the window, tilting her head back as my husband fastened a necklace around her neck.

Mark leaned down and kissed her.

I froze at the entrance of the restaurant, my hand still resting on the door handle.

It wasn't until someone behind me murmured, "Excuse me," that I let go and stepped aside.

No mistake. No misunderstanding.

I took out my phone and dialed his number.

Through the glass, I saw him check his screen, frown, and decline the call.

A second later, a text popped up.

“Still working through this issue. Go to sleep first.”

Amy used her fork to feed him a bite of dessert. He smiled and ate it.

I used to think that smile belonged exclusively to me.

I snapped a picture, turned around, and left.

The driver asked where I wanted to go.

I gave him our home address, but as the words left my mouth, I suddenly wondered if I could even call it a home anymore.

When I got back, the cake was still sitting on the table.

A sliced piece was served at my spot, next to a card he’d written.

“Here’s to another fifty anniversaries together.”

I flipped the card over and pulled out my suitcase.

My passport, bank cards, laptop, and a few changes of clothes.

Most of the closet was filled with his things. For the past five years, I remembered which dry cleaner needed to handle his dress shirts, yet I hadn't bought a coat I actually liked in forever.

Reaching into the nightstand, I felt the travel journal we’d made.

Last year, we planned to go to Italy.

Then he said his project was too busy, so I canceled the plane tickets, saving my vacation days for this year instead.

This year, he said he wanted a baby, so we should wait and bring the kid along later.

I packed the journal into my suitcase.

My phone lit up.

“All wrapped up, heading home now. Are you hungry? Want me to bring you something to eat?”

I looked at the message, my finger hovering over the screen.

For five years, as long as he said he was coming back, I’d leave a light on and keep his food warm, staying up even when I was exhausted.

Tonight, I didn't reply.

I called my sister.

“Is your guest room available?”

“Of course. What happened?”

Hearing her voice made me want to cry, to break down, but in the end, I just said flatly, “Mark is seeing someone else.”

Silence hung on the line for a moment.

“Send me your address. I’ll come get you.”

“I’ll call a ride. Just leave a light on for me.”

Hanging up, I double-checked to make sure the pregnancy report was safely in my bag.

I had pulled that piece of paper out several times today. Each time, I’d wondered what kind of expression he’d make when he found out.

Now, all I wanted was to keep it hidden.

My wedding ring was stuck at my knuckle. It took me two tries to pull it off.

Five years ago, when Mark slipped it onto my finger, his hands were trembling with nerve. I’d teased him back then, saying we had a lifetime ahead of us to practice.

I set the ring on top of the card.

I wrote just one sentence on it:

“I went to that restaurant tonight.”

Before closing the door, I heard the faint hum of the refrigerator starting up.

The house was as quiet as it always was.

Except this time, I didn't have to wait for anyone to come home.