Chapter 3
"A lawyer will reach out about the papers. Stop bothering me!"
With that, I walked out of the house I'd called home for seven years.
Roger was still bellowing behind me, "If you leave now, don't expect me to give a damn about our past! Good luck trying to crawl back later!"
What a joke! As if I'd ever come back at this point!
I grabbed a cab to the ritzy neighborhood in Qenset where all the big shots lived.
Manual was already out front waiting when I pulled up. Right away, he asked how everything had gone so wrong so fast.
His brows were furrowed—he was clearly really concerned.
I laid out the whole mess with Martina and the sperm donation plan.
Manual had never liked Roger, and now he was furious. "I knew he was no good, but I didn't peg him for being this dumb and sleazy!
"Leave the rest to me—I'll sort it all out for you."
Maybe it was the comfort of being around someone I knew so well, feeling that warmth I'd missed for ages, but I broke down and sobbed my heart out.
Seven years ago, I'd thrown caution to the wind and married Roger.
My parents, brother, relatives, friends—none of them were on board.
Even Manual, who'd trailed after me like a puppy back in the day, talked about Roger with a touch of scorn and pleaded with me over the phone not to tie the knot.
I'd assumed they all just sneered at the Crawford family as new money.
I was determined to prove I knew what I was doing.
Never imagined it'd crash and burn like this.
After wasting seven years of my prime, I was finally seeing clearly. Whatever he pulled next, I wasn't looking back.
But what caught me off guard was Roger digging in his heels on the divorce.
Even when Manual called him personally, he just played dumb.
"I'll sign off on it, but only after I talk to Cathryn in person."
I texted him to ask what there was left to say.
I: [We've got nothing to discuss anymore. If you won't sign, I'll sue for divorce—no other choice.]
Roger: [It's such a small thing—do we have to make a mountain out of it? I'll have them apologize, and that'll be that.]
Roger: [Plus, Martina only wants a kid from me—she hasn't wrecked our home or anything.]
Whenever Martina's name came up, he'd always paint her as the innocent victim.
No matter what happened, she was always worth forgiving, worth understanding.
And if anyone had an issue with her, he'd inevitably take her side.
Even during my first pregnancy, he showed me zero concern—he was too wrapped up in daily overseas calls with her.
On our anniversaries, if she needed him, he'd ditch me in a heartbeat to go running.
For our seventh, he ghosted the entire day to tag along with her for a bunch of pre-IVF exams.
Every holiday, he'd make a point of getting her a gift too.
If I got mad, he'd brush it off with, "Come on, she's had a tough go. Fell for the wrong guy abroad and tanked her reputation—now she can't even find someone to settle down with.
"We go way back—if I don't look out for her, who will?"
Looking back, all our happy moments were crammed into those first two years.
That was when she'd headed overseas for school, latched onto some rich guy, and cut him off completely.
Meanwhile, I threw my whole heart into him, flipping things so he went from chasing to being chased.
Finally, he got down on one knee.
"Are you serious?" I asked, happy tears rolling down my cheeks.
"I've given it real thought—these days with you have been the best of my life. I want to make that last forever."
Too bad the dream was over now.
When I didn't reply, Roger called me straight up.
"Cathryn, come on over, alright? I've got it all arranged—let them apologize, and we can put this mess behind us. Enough with the drama."
"Martina's okay with that?" I asked.
"You bet!" He sounded pumped that I'd given in a little. "She didn't do anything wrong, really, but she said if it'll make you smile, she's happy to say sorry."
"Fine, tomorrow it is."
If she was so eager to make me happy, I'd be sure to soak it up.
When Roger swung by to pick me up, Martina was riding shotgun.
She pouted playfully, "I get carsick—you don't mind, do you, Cathryn?"
In the old days, that would've kicked off a huge fight. But now, I just gave a scornful smirk, kept quiet, and slid into the back seat.
At the restaurant, his buddies grudgingly offered their apologies.
"Cathryn, we screwed up—shouldn't have run our mouths. I'll down a drink as punishment!"