Chapter 3
On the third morning, I woke up.
Honestly, I hadn't really slept at all. I'd only closed my eyes for a bit.
The phone screen was still on.
They were up.
The woman was washing up, and Clifford was ordering takeout.
"Babe, what do you want for breakfast?" he asked.
"Whatever," she replied.
"Should I order some oatmeal and maybe some sandwiches?" he suggested.
"Sure," she said.
I stared at the screen.
He actually called her "babe."
He never once called me "babe."
He barely even called me "honey." Most of the time, he would just said to me, "Hey."
He would say, "Hey, dinner's ready."
He would say, "Hey, did you do the laundry?"
He would say, "Hey, my mom's calling. Can you pick up?"
I always thought he wasn't used to cute names.
But now I knew the truth.
He could do it.
He just never wanted to call me cute names.
After breakfast, they started packing up, getting ready to head back.
The woman looked a little reluctant to leave.
"These past few days have been so much fun," she said.
"We'll have more moments like this," Clifford replied.
"Really?" she asked.
"Really. Next month, I'll take some time off and take you to Lethia," he promised.
"Okay!" she said.
Next month, they were going to Lethia.
Clifford and I had been married for five years, and we'd only managed two trips together.
One was to his hometown. We took one of those old trains and took more than ten hours to get there.
The other was a local tourist spot. We stayed at a cheap motel and grabbed food from food trucks.
He always said, "Traveling is a waste of money. Better to save it."
Now he was taking someone else on to Lethia.
By noon, they checked out.
In the hotel lobby, the woman hugged Clifford.
"I don't want to leave," she said.
"Come on. We have to get back to work," he replied.
"I hate work," she complained.
"Once I get things sorted at the company, I'll get you a cushier position," he promised.
"Really?" she asked.
"Really," he said.
I noticed something.
He mentioned the company.
I wondered if that woman worked at his company.
I tried to remember.
Clifford had mentioned an admin assistant from his company before.
Her name was Una Briggs.
I'd met her once.
At the company's annual event, I went to pick up Clifford. She was standing by the door, saying hi to him.
"Clifford, your wife's here," she said.
Back then, I thought she seemed pretty thoughtful.
It turned out that Clifford was having an affair with her.
That afternoon, Clifford drove Una back.
In the car, Una rested against his shoulder.
"Clifford," she said softly.
"Yeah?" he replied.
"When are you going to divorce her?" Una asked.
Clifford was quiet for a moment.
"Just wait," he said.
"Wait for what?" Una pressed.
"I'm waiting for her to bring it up first," Clifford replied.
"Why wait for her to bring it up?" she asked.
Clifford said, "If she's the one who asks for the divorce, I won't have to give her as much money.
"If I make her life a bit more uncomfortable, she'll end up asking for it herself."
My hand clenched.
He wanted to make things harder for me, so I would end up being the one to bring it up.
So that was what he wanted.
It wasn't that he couldn't spend money.
He just didn't want to spend it on me.
He wanted to drive me away, so he wouldn't have to give me a thing.
The house was in his name. He had no clue about the money I'd saved over the past five years.
By his logic, if I was the one to ask for the divorce, I'd walk away with nothing.
So that was what he had been planning all along.
Clifford dropped Una off at her neighborhood.
At the gate, he pulled her into a quick hug.
"Go on in," Clifford said.
"When are you free next?" Una asked.
"I'll try to make time one evening next week," he replied.
"Sure," she said.
Una headed inside.
Clifford got back in the car.
He picked up his phone.
I saw him looking at the screen.
He stared at the screen for a few seconds.
My heart was in my throat.
I wondered if he would notice.
The video call was still running.
It had been three days.
There should be an indicator on the screen.
He stared at it for a few seconds.
Then, he swiped it away.
He didn't notice.
Or maybe he did notice, but figured he'd forgotten to hang up and didn't care.
He tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and started the car.
The video was still on.
I was still watching.
That evening, Clifford came home.
I heard the keys turning in the lock.
I was sitting on the couch, my phone right next to me.
He walked in.
"I'm back," he said.
I said, glancing up at him, "Yeah. How'd the trip go?"
He said, slipping off his shoes, "It was alright. I'm exhausted."
"Have you eaten?" I asked.
"I had a little. Did you make dinner?" he replied.
"No, I was waiting for you. I wasn't sure when you'd get home," I said.
He frowned. "So, you're going to cook now?"
"Yeah," I said.
I got up and headed to the kitchen.
I made his favorite pulled pork, some veggies, and a soup.
He sat down at the table and started eating.
I sat across from him, quietly watching him eat.
"Why aren't you eating?" he asked.
I said, "I'm not really hungry. I want to ask you something."
"Yeah?" he replied.
"Which hotel did you stay at during your business trip?" I asked.
His hand paused mid-reach for the food.
"The company arranged it," he said.
"What hotel was it?" I asked again.
He said, glancing at me, "Just a business hotel. Why are you suddenly asking?"
"Nothing." I smiled. "Just curious."
He didn't say anything else and went back to eating.
I watched him.
I watched him eat my cooking, like nothing was wrong.
I watched his face while he acted like everything was perfectly normal.
I kept quiet.
I was waiting.
I was waiting for the right moment.