Chapter 4
Charlotte refused to sign the divorce papers.
After my lawyer sent her the papers, she showed up at my little rental place.
It was a one-bedroom apartment near the rehab hospital, with a breakfast place downstairs. Every morning at five, the sound of the store would thump right up the walls and wake me up.
When I opened the door, Charlotte was standing there, holding a thermos.
"I made your favorite dish," she said.
I didn't let her in.
She glanced at the crutches leaning against the wall in the entryway, and her expression changed a bit.
"Did you move out for real?" she asked.
"Yeah," I replied.
"We have a big house, and you choose to live in a place like this. Why?" she asked.
"It's close to the hospital," I replied.
Charlotte pushed the thermos into my hands.
She said, "I talked to the doctor. If you stick with your rehab, things might turn out better than you think."
I didn't take it.
Charlotte held it out for a while, and her watch slipped out from under her sleeve.
It wasn't the one Andrew gave her. It was the one I got her for our anniversary. It wasn't expensive, only a little over 1,000 dollars.
She thought I was being reckless with money back then.
"You spent 1,000 dollars on a watch, huh? Think that's romantic or something? Ethan, life isn't some cheesy TV drama," she had snapped at me at that time.
I lowered my head and mumbled, "I won't do it again."
But she wore it all the time.
She didn't wear it because she liked it—she wanted people to think our marriage was fine.
My gaze lingered on that watch.
"Charlotte, take your stuff and leave," I said.
She took a deep breath.
"I know you're still angry. I can compensate you," Charlotte said.
"How?" I asked.
She seemed to have it all planned out.
"I'll hire the best rehab therapist for you, and I'll pay for everything. From now on, you'll have access to some of the family money. I'll give you 1,500 dollars a month," Charlotte offered.
I couldn't hold back a laugh.
Some kids ran past in the hallway, their slippers slapping against the floor.
"Ms. Reed, do you give your employees pocket money?" I asked.
Her face darkened.
"Do you have to put it that way?" she asked.
I retorted, "My paycheck goes straight to you. I paid 40% of the down payment for our house.
"The car was mine before we got married, and I sold it to bail your company out. And now you're telling me you'll give me 1,500 dollars a month."
Charlotte set the thermos down on the floor.
"Didn't I put all that money back into the family account after the company got back on its feet?" she asked.
"I don't get to see the account," I shot back.
"I'm managing the money for our family," Charlotte said.
"You manage the money to control me," I disagreed.
She looked up.
The anger in her eyes finally spilled over.
Charlotte snapped, "Ethan, don't play the victim. You're an ordinary designer.
"If it weren't for my planning, would you have that house? Would you ever get into my world? Everything you eat, wear, or use, I'm the one who worries about all of it, aren't I?"
I leaned against the doorframe, my leg aching from standing too long.
"Guess my leg turned out this way because you 'cared' so much about me, huh?" I said.
Her lips parted slightly.
"I didn't think it would be this bad," she muttered.
"I'm going by what the doctor said," I replied.
"The doctor never promised you'd end up disabled," she shot back.
"So you were rolling the dice with my leg, weren't you?" I asked.
Charlotte fell silent.
The hallway window was left open, and the wind swept through, making the plastic bag wrapped around the thermos crinkle loudly.
I bent down, picked up the thermos, and placed it back by her feet.
"Take it with you," I told her.
Suddenly, she asked, "Is this all because of Andrew?"
I looked at her.
She grumbled, "Ethan, you never used to be this petty. Andrew Scott and I have known each other since we were kids.
"Our families are close. He's had a rough time overseas these past few years. Is it a big deal if I help him out a bit?"
"Oh, so 'helping him out' means giving him a 180,000-dollar watch, huh?" I shot back.
She immediately replied, "It was his birthday, and I wanted to show some support for his gallery's reopening."
"And you didn't want to show some support for my surgery," I remarked.
My words caught her off guard, and I could hear her breathing quicken.
Right then, her phone started ringing in her bag.
She glanced at the screen but didn't answer.
I saw the Caller ID.
It was Andrew.
The phone rang again, but she still didn't answer.
On the third ring, she finally picked up, frowning.
"What's wrong?" Charlotte asked.
Whatever Andrew had said, her face immediately softened.
"Don't worry. I'll be right there," she said.
I stood there in the doorway, saying nothing.
Charlotte hung up and looked at me, putting on that face like she was completely in the right again.
"Something came up with Andrew. I'll come back later," she said.
I nodded in response.
"Don't bother coming back," I said.
Charlotte picked up the thermos, took a couple of steps, then turned back.
"Ethan, why don't you calm down for a few days? I'm not going to agree to this divorce," she said.
"Then I'll take you to court," I replied.
Charlotte was taken aback.
Before I closed the door, I saw her standing in the hallway, and for the first time, her mask slipped. There was a crack in her calm.