Chapter 3
Back at the building, I handed over 1,700 dollars and talked to the management about renting a basement storage unit.
After getting the key, I stashed my suitcase inside, made sure the door was locked tight, and then rushed back home.
But before I even got inside, I heard that familiar crying coming from the apartment.
Sophie was awake.
Panicking, I fumbled to unlock the door as fast as I could.
As soon as I stepped inside, I saw Eric already back, sprawled out on the couch, scrolling through his phone.
Sophie was sitting all alone on the floor, shivering in her thin pajamas and crying, with no one even bothering to care.
When I walked in, Eric barely glanced up from his phone and immediately started blaming me.
"What's your problem? How could you just leave Sophie here by herself?" he snapped.
"I've called you a hundred times and you couldn't even bother to answer. Where were you anyway?
"I'm starving. Hurry up and go make me breakfast," he demanded.
His shoes were tossed haphazardly by the door, one sock still stuffed inside a shoe, the other flung onto the coffee table, right on top of Sophie's pacifier.
I couldn't help but feel a surge of irritation.
Seriously, Eric was such a slob.
No matter where he went, he left a mess behind, shoes, socks, even his used tissues would be all over the place, never in the trash can, even when it was right there.
Sophie was at that age where she'd put anything she could get her hands on straight into her mouth.
I'd argued with Eric about this many times.
He'd say he'd fix it, swear up and down he'd change, but he never actually did.
If I brought it up too often, he'd just get pissed off.
"I'm busting my ass at work every single day, barely keeping my head above water. Do you really think I have the energy to worry about this stuff?" he snapped.
"Can't you just take care of it while you're at it?
"I'm the one bringing home the money, so why should I have to do the housework too? What's the point of having a wife if I still have to do everything myself?"
Eric was the breadwinner, and I knew how hard he worked, so I just kept my mouth shut and spent my days cleaning up after him.
But it turned out, none of it was real.
All his stories about slaving away at work? What a joke. And that picture-perfect, loyal husband routine was just make-believe.
He'd spent the whole night fooling around with his side chick, then swaggered back in like a king, expecting me to drop everything and serve him.
I was so disgusted that I marched right over, grabbed his sock, and crammed it hard into his mouth.
"I've told you literally hundreds of times. Stop throwing your damn socks all over the place," I snapped.
"What the fuck, Mary? Have you totally lost it?" Eric yelled, springing up from the couch.
He scrambled to yank the sock out of his mouth, the reeking stench of his own foot sweat hitting him so hard he almost puked.
He doubled over, retching nonstop.
"Seriously, what the hell crawled up your ass today?" He sputtered.
We'd been together for ten years, and I was always the soft one with Eric, never the type to lose my temper.
Even when I got frustrated, I'd never curse at him. At most, I'd raise my voice, trying to get through to him that he couldn't keep acting this way.
But today was the first time I'd ever snapped and gotten physical with him.
After his initial shock and anger, Eric's face turned sheepish as last night's events flashed through his mind. He looked like he'd just been caught doing something he shouldn't.
He glanced over at me nervously, his voice cautious.
"Are you okay?" he asked, sounding just a bit guilty.
I scooped Sophie up with a cold, hard expression.
"You know what you did."
I didn't bring up his affair just yet.
I knew Eric way too well. He always put on that honest, stand-up guy act, but unless you caught him in the act, he'd deny it till the bitter end.
Showing my hand now would just tip him off and put him on alert.
I needed to hire a lawyer, quietly look into his cheating and any hidden assets, and get this divorce done as fast as possible.
Then I'd take Sophie and the money, move to a city where no one knew us, and start over from scratch.
"Who are you giving attitude to this early in the morning?" Eric shot back, sounding annoyed.
Eric looked me up and down, trying to figure me out. And when he realized I really didn't know anything about last night, the temper he'd barely held back came flaring up again.
"Are you nuts? This morning, you just left Sophie alone, didn't bother to make breakfast, and ran off God knows where. What's your problem?" he snapped.
He paused, then shot me an accusing glare, his voice full of suspicion.
"What, were you out seeing some other guy? Is that why you're acting all pissed off at me now?"
I was so angry that I was speechless.
Some things never changed.
He did the dirty deed, then turned around and tried to pin it all on me.
I wasn't about to waste another breath arguing. I ignored Eric completely, scooped Sophie up, and carried her straight to the bedroom to get her changed.
Eric followed me into the bedroom, his face dark and stubborn, refusing to let it go.
"Answer me," he demanded, his voice sharp.
"Where the hell did you go?"