Chapter 3
Naomi suddenly smiled, light and gentle, like ripples on still water. "I don't want you to pay."
She walked up to Gavin, took the divorce papers from his hand, and flipped to the last page, finding the signature line.
The pen was already there, waiting beside the papers. Naomi uncapped it, leaned forward, and signed her name, one stroke at a time.
It took her a long time to write those two words.
Her hand trembled violently, making the letters crooked and shaky, like a kid just learning to write.
But as she finished the last stroke, Naomi steadied herself, steadying herself.
After signing, she pushed the papers toward Gavin, looked up, and met his eyes. "What about you?"
Gavin looked at her, his brow furrowing slightly. He wondered if he was seeing things, but there was something bright in her eyes: not tears, but a sense of relief.
Suddenly, Gavin felt a wave of irritation for reasons he couldn't quite explain. He snatched up the papers, signed his name with a dramatic flourish, and tossed the pen onto the table. "Happy now?"
Naomi stared at the two signed copies for a moment, then slowly gathered them up and slipped them into a folder.
"We'll go to the courthouse tomorrow," she said. Then she turned and started packing her things.
There wasn't much to pack. Most of her stuff barely took up any space here: a few clothes, some books, an old phone she'd used for three years, and a photo.
The photo was their wedding photo. They stood side by side; Naomi was smiling, her eyes curved with happiness, while Gavin looked blank, but there was a hint of warmth in his eyes.
She pulled the photo out and slipped it into her bag.
Gavin leaned against the doorframe, watching her pack. "You are going to leave like that?"
Naomi didn't look back. "What do you want me to do?"
"Where are you gonna stay?"
Naomi paused for a second, then kept stuffing things into her bag. "That's not your concern."
Gavin was quiet for a moment, then let out a mocking laugh. "Alright, Naomi. You think you're tough? Think you can survive without me? Go on, give it a shot."
Naomi zipped up her bag and turned around.
She looked at Gavin, the man she'd loved for five years and been married to for three. He still had those good looks: sharp nose, thin lips, and when he smiled, the corners of his eyes would crinkle.
But it had been ages since Naomi had seen him smile. At least, not around her.
"Gavin," she said his name quietly.
Gavin raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.
Naomi opened her mouth, so many words on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to ask, "Did you remember today is our anniversary? Did you know I spent three hours making that pot roast?
"Did you know every time you stayed out all night, I waited up for you?"
But in the end, she didn't say a word.
She shook her head and smiled. "No, it's nothing. Take care."
Naomi slung her bag over her shoulder and walked past Gavin. At the door, she paused and took one last look at the home she'd spent three years in.
The living room lights were still on, the leftovers sat untouched on the table, and the cake was sitting all alone in the corner.
A sudden pang of regret washed over Naomi. She should have taken a bite. After all, she'd made it herself and hadn't tasted a single mouthful.
She looked away, opened the door, and walked out.
The door closed softly behind her.
Gavin stood in the bedroom doorway, staring at the closed door. For some reason, a sudden emptiness hollowed out his chest.
He looked down at the divorce papers in his hand, both copies signed and done. He tossed them onto the table and dropped onto the couch in the living room.
The cake remained on the table, its message now illegible. He couldn't read the frosting anymore; only a dark smudge remained.
Gavin frowned, shoved the cake aside, leaned back on the couch, and closed his eyes.
He had to be up for work tomorrow. Wherever Naomi went, whatever she did—none of his damn business.