Chapter 3
"Do you not want to review the terms?" the lawyer asked, a little surprised.
"There is no need," Yolanda said as she pushed the document back. "I already told him that I don't want anything.
"You can tell him not to worry. I won't bother him, and I won't say anything to the public that could harm him or the Fennimore family. From now on, we will go our separate ways."
The lawyer opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he stayed quiet.
*****
On the day Yolanda was discharged, she left alone.
She packed a small suitcase with a few changes of clothes and a photo album. Inside the album was the only picture she had with Mortimer, taken on their wedding day.
In the photo, she wore a white dress and smiled, her eyes curved. He stood beside her with a distant look, his gaze fixed elsewhere.
She opened the album and looked at it for a moment. Then she took the photo out, tore it cleanly in half, and threw it into the trash can in the hospital hallway.
She took a taxi to the airport. She didn't tell anyone where she was going, because she didn't even know herself. She just bought a ticket for the earliest flight, with a destination listed as Ermance City.
She had never been there and had no idea what it was like, but she felt that as long as she left this city, anywhere would be fine.
When the plane took off, she sat by the window and watched the city grow smaller and smaller, fading into the distance until it turned into a cluster of tiny lights.
Inside those lights was everything she had known for twenty-eight years. The Fennimore family villa, the hospital, the child she had lost, and Mortimer and Pansy.
She closed her eyes and said goodbye in her heart.
It was not just a goodbye. It was a goodbye forever.
*****
The sky over Ermance City was a deep blue, so clear that it almost didn't look real.
Yolanda stayed at a small inn tucked inside an alley in the old part of town. When she opened the window, she could see mountains in the distance.
The owner of the inn was a woman in her forties named Estelle Davidson. She had a round figure and a loud, easy laugh.
She didn't ask Yolanda where she came from. She didn't ask why Yolanda was alone. She didn't ask why Yolanda looked like someone who had just gone through something terrible.
She cooked a bowl of pasta, set it in front of Yolanda, and said, "Eat while it's hot, and get some rest after."
Yolanda ate the pasta. She finished all of it, sauce included.
After that, she went back to her room, took a hot shower, changed into clean pajamas, lay down on the bed, pulled the blanket over herself, and closed her eyes.
She couldn't fall asleep.
She kept her eyes open, staring at the wooden ceiling. The grain ran across it in long lines, one after another, like rivers, like veins, like the roads she had walked.
She remembered being sixteen and hiding in a corner of the Fennimore family garden during a party. She watched Mortimer walk out of the hall.
Moonlight fell on him, making him look like he was glowing. Her heart pounded so fast that she thought it might burst out of her chest.
She remembered their wedding. She walked down the red carpet in her dress while he waited for her at the other end, his eyes distant.
She remembered their wedding night, when he held her but called out Pansy's name.
She remembered all those late nights when she lay alone in that large, empty bed, waiting for him to come home.
She remembered the time he brought Pansy home for dinner. Pansy sat in her seat. He served her food, poured her wine, and peeled shrimp for her. Yolanda sat across from them like an outsider.
She remembered that night when she woke up in pain, called him, and heard him tell her to stop pretending.
Yolanda turned onto her side and pressed her face into the pillow.
The pillow was soft and warm, carrying the faint scent of detergent. She buried her face deeper into it, took a slow breath, and then, little by little, let the tears she had held back for four years finally fall.
She didn't make a sound.
She had learned a long time ago how to cry without making any noise.
*****
During her third month in Ermance City, Yolanda started to feel like something was off with her body.
She felt sick a lot, especially in the mornings, and the smell of anything greasy made her want to throw up.
Her period hadn't come for two months. She assumed her body was still recovering from the miscarriage, so she didn't think much of it.
One day, Estelle walked in with a bowl of chicken soup. The second Yolanda caught the smell, she rushed to the bathroom and threw up hard.
Estelle stood by the door and watched her. The worry on her face slowly shifted into something more thoughtful.
"When was your last period?" Estelle asked.
Yolanda froze. She started counting the days in her head, and her face slowly drained of color.