Chapter 6

My question left Mallory at a loss for words, and I could see embarrassment and anger building up in his eyes.

"Lindsay, when did you change?" Mallory suddenly shouted.

His voice shot up, and he jabbed his finger at me.

He said, "It's just a house. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?

"How did I never see you were so obsessed with money and so calculating before?

"The way you are now is so cruel!"

His words was like the sharpest blade, cutting right into my already battered heart.

Any feelings I had left for him was wiped out by his words.

I stared at him, his face contorted with anger.

This was the man I'd loved for half my life, the one I'd devoted so many years to.

It turned out that this was how he saw me.

He believed that I was materialistic and cruel.

I was dead inside.

I didn't argue with him anymore.

I turned around, calm and collected, and took out the papers I'd had ready for ages from the drawer.

Without a word, I set them down right in front of him.

"Since that's how it is, there's no point in us staying together anymore," I said.

Mallory's eyes landed on the papers.

The words "Divorce Agreement" were like a branding iron, making him jerk his hand back as if burned.

The anger on his face froze, and in its place was total shock and panic.

"Divorce?" Mallory stammered.

He stared at the papers, totally stunned, unable to process what was happening.

He asked, "Lindsay, are you really going through with this?"

I said as I calmly placed the papers into his hands, "I never joke.

"I don't want any of the property. The house and everything else will belong to you and your dear brother. I'm leaving with nothing."

Mallory clutched those flimsy divorce papers, his hands trembling violently.

He finally panicked.

He'd never imagined that after twenty years of quietly enduring everything, I'd actually ask for a divorce.

He was used to having me there, used to my care and devotion, used to coming home to a hot meal, used to having his sick mother looked after.

He couldn't even picture what life would be like without me.

Fear crashed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him completely.

He said, "No, Lindsay, I am sorry. I didn't mean any of it. I was just mad. Please, you can't take it seriously!"

He scrambled for words, desperate to make me stay, to undo what he'd just said.

I was done listening.

I said, "Just sign it, Mallory. Let's part on good terms."

I gave Mallory three days to make up his mind.

Those three days were also a chance for me to catch my breath.

I needed to go home and grab some clothes for the new season.

But more importantly, I had to check on Lorelei.

I timed it just right, picking an afternoon when Mallory would be at work and Orson would probably be out fooling around.

I used my spare key to open the door, and the stench smacked me right in the face. It was a mix of old takeout and spoiled trash.

The living room looked like a disaster zone.

The couch was piled high with dirty clothes, and the coffee table was littered with toppled beer bottles and empty snack bags.

This wasn't a home anymore.

This place was a full-on garbage dump.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust, not even bothering to clean up.

I headed straight for Lorelei's room.

The door was slightly ajar, and the room was unusually quiet.

I pushed it open. The curtains were pulled closed, leaving the room dim.

Lorelei lay still in bed, looking so much thinner than when I left, her cheeks sunken in.

Her lips were cracked, and her skin was sallow.

The heart monitor by her bed showed a weak, sluggish heartbeat.

It felt like a giant hand was crushing my heart, squeezing so hard I could barely breathe.

It turned out that they were not taking care of her at all.

I walked over and checked Lorelei's forehead. She was a bit feverish.

I rolled up my sleeves, filled a bucket with warm water, wrung out a towel, and started gently wiping her down.

Her skin was sticky and clammy, smelling of sweat and medicine.

Just as I feared, little red patches had started to show up on her skin.

If I didn't take care of them soon, they'd turn nasty in no time.

My hands moved gently, almost on autopilot. After all, I'd been doing this every single day for the past twenty years.

Once I'd cleaned her up and got her into fresh clothes and clean sheets, Lorelei looked way more comfortable.

I straightened out the old pillow Lorelei had used for twenty years, finally ready to replace it with a new one.