Chapter 5

Not long after Isabelle and Ethan took off, Morgan found me in the yard.

He sat down across from me, silent, just watching me.

I looked back at him, keeping quiet, just waiting for him to bring up the divorce.

Morgan looked down for a moment. "I haven't been able to come see you lately."

I said, "It's fine."

He asked, "How have you been?"

I answered, "Alright."

Morgan asked, "I told you to call me when you were discharged. Why didn't you?"

I had no patience for pointless back-and-forth, so I went straight to the point. "Morgan, when are we getting divorced?"

His face went rigid, and when he looked up again, his eyes were a little darker. He gave a tight, awkward smile. "So... you heard everything that day, huh?"

I nodded. My arm was broken, not my ears.

He drummed his fingers on the table, looking a little uneasy. "What I said that day... I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean it. I never wanted a divorce."

I met his gaze, my voice steady and clear. "Well, I do now."

He let out a short, mocking laugh and sat up straighter. "Are you serious?"

"Have you thought about where you'll go?" he asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.

"The doctor already told you about your left arm, right? You might never be able to play piano again," he said bluntly.

"Without me, how are you planning to make it? And..." he added, leaving the rest hanging with a smirk.

I'd had enough. I cut him off, "I'm sure about this. No regrets. So, when are we signing the divorce papers?"

He squinted at me, with a hint of challenge in his voice. "You're really sure?"

I didn't answer, just stared him down.

He leaned back in his chair with a half-smirk. "Alright. When do you want to do it?"

I pulled out the divorce agreement I'd already prepared and slid a pen across the table to him. "Right now."

Morgan stared at the divorce papers I'd already signed, his eyes darkening.

After a long moment, he twirled his pen and gave a faint, almost bitter smile. "Fine."

As I packed my things, he leaned against the doorway, his voice carrying a hint of heaviness.

"Rachel, you're the one choosing to leave. No one's pushing you out," he said.

I tossed a few more jeweled necklaces into my suitcase. "I know."

Morgan smirked, sounding nonchalant. "If things don't work out and you come crawling back, that's not going to look good."

I zipped up my suitcase and stood up straight. "That'll be my problem, not yours."

As I brushed past him, he reached out and grabbed my arm.

"You can still change your mind. Let me ask you one last time..." he said, his voice tense.

"Dad!" Charlie suddenly called out, cutting him off before he could finish.

Charlie came running down the stairs, blinking his big eyes as he glanced at my suitcase, then at me.

His eyes were a little wet, with a hint of hope. "Are you really leaving, Rachel?"

"Can you stay away for a while this time?" he asked, sounding a bit cheeky.

As he spoke, he gave Morgan a puzzled look, noticing he was still grabbing my arm.

"Dad, let her go. If you keep holding her, how is she supposed to leave?" Charlie whined.

"If you don't let her go, Mom will be upset. And when Mom's upset, she won't want you or me anymore," he added, his voice trembling a little.

Hearing that, Morgan slowly loosened his grip on my arm.

I didn't give him another look. Instead, I bent down for one last time to face Charlie, the child I'd brought up myself.

"Charlie, I promise I'll be gone for a long time this time," I said softly.

Charlie tilted his head, his eyes wide. "How long?"

I said, "It means I'm never coming back.

"I won't tell you not to eat snacks or watch TV anymore.

"And I won't ever embarrass myself again by pretending to be your mom."

Charlie was stunned for a moment.

Then his eyes lit up with delight, curving into crescents as he started bouncing around.

"Dad, did you hear that? Rachel's leaving! No one's going to tell us what to do anymore." Charlie cheered, practically bursting with excitement.

"I gotta call Uncle Ethan and tell him the good news," he exclaimed.

Morgan didn't try to stop me anymore. Maybe Charlie's words had finally gotten through to him.

As I dragged my suitcase to the door, the clock struck midnight. In my head, I heard that familiar chime—mission accomplished.

My task had been to keep this family afloat for six years. I had done that.

From now on, whether they sank or swam was no concern of mine.

The car I'd arranged was already waiting out front.

As it pulled away, I kept my eyes fixed ahead.

The driver looked pretty young, almost boyish. His side profile looked a lot like mine, and the longer I stared, the more familiar he felt.