Chapter 3
"What's wrong? Bad mood?" Nydia asked.
"Just a stomachache. You were up all night. Go get some rest," I said.
She smelled like alcohol, though I doubt she noticed.
As she walked to the bedroom, I asked, "Are you even allowed to drink at the hospital?"
Nydia froze, then turned around. "We just had a few drinks after work, with coworkers."
If she wanted to lie, I wasn't going to push it. I already knew the truth.
Last night, I called the hospital pretending to be a patient, asking for someone in Nydia's department.
The nurse said Nydia clocked out right after her shift.
I didn't need to guess where she went.
How pathetic. I even had to play detective just to know where my wife was.
Later, when I got home from work, Nydia had just woken up. As she was getting ready to head out, she suddenly asked, "What were those papers you had at the courthouse?"
I kept my eyes down. "Just work stuff. Some business dispute."
"Can I see them?" she asked, not letting it go.
I shook my head, unable to meet her piercing gaze that seemed to see right through me.
She picked up on my unease right away. "I don't care about your work drama, but just don't touch our savings."
I tightened my grip, almost letting out a bitter smile—but in the end, I couldn't. "Got it."
That was what she was worried about—me spending our money.
Without a word, I pulled out the file and handed it over. "Here. Take a look."
Just as she reached for it, her phone rang. She paused to answer.
"Nydia, come quick! Winona's making a scene at my uncle's place again!" The girl sounded anxious.
I was close enough to hear everything. My heart dropped.
"Do you want to check these before you go?" I asked.
Nydia frowned, clearly worried about Jefferson. She swatted the papers out of my hand. They scattered across the floor.
"My best friend is in trouble. I have to go," she said.
Trying to ease the tension, she added, "Her uncle's ex-wife showed up with a knife. Someone's hurt."
With that, she threw on her coat and rushed out.
I didn't stop her and just told her to be careful.
If she'd just looked down—just glanced at those papers—she would've seen the words divorce petition right there.
After she left, I slowly picked everything up. I couldn't sleep a wink that night.
At that quiet hour before dawn, I grabbed my phone, and there it was—Jefferson had just posted on Instagram.
The video showed his old, rundown place looking like something out of a magazine. Nydia flashed across the screen, sitting on a swing inside his house.
He stood behind her, pushing her gently.
The caption read: [My sunshine.]
To him, Nydia was sunshine. But to me, she was a swamp I couldn't crawl out of.
I stared at those words forever, my chest so tight I couldn't breathe.
It seemed that Jefferson's divorce finally came through.
No surprise. With Nydia by his side—doing everything for him—how could he not succeed?
Now that he was single, I figured it wouldn't be long before Nydia asked me for a divorce. Of course, she didn't want to keep hiding the guy she really loved.
Just thinking about the two of them together made my heart hurt. I gave a bitter smile. As all those memories came rushing back, it felt like my heart had already shattered into pieces.
Better to step away quietly than wait for her to dump me.
I started packing up everything that belonged to us—all the couple stuff I'd bought over the years. Box after box, I carried it all downstairs and threw it out.
On my way out, I ran into Nydia coming home.
She walked over and stared at the messy pile of boxes on the floor, confusion written all over her face. "Why are you throwing out so much stuff?"
"It's just taking up space. We don't even use it," I said.
She nodded like it made sense, then picked up a box to help.