Chapter 3
"Go back?" Grace glanced at Matthew's hand gripping her wrist. "Matthew, I've already signed the papers. If you're busy, we can reschedule for the registry office. If you really can't make it, we can just settle it in court."
"I haven't signed," he replied.
Grace paused, then got it. "That's fine. The agreement can just be tossed. If you want to change anything, have your lawyer reach out. I don't want your money, I don't want your house. I just want my freedom."
"Grace," he said quietly.
"Matthew," she interrupted, locking eyes with him. "Three years, and this is the first time I've seen something different in your eyes. Why is that? Is it because I'm leaving?
"Or is it just that you're not used to losing something you thought belonged to you?"
His brows furrowed.
"No..." he said.
"Matthew," Grace smiled distantly. "Three years. Do you know what I like to eat? Do you know what time I go to bed? Do you know what I do on weekends?"
He had no idea.
She answered for him, her voice steady. "You don't know. You never knew, and you never wanted to know.
"Every time you came home late from work, there was always a bowl of soup waiting for you in the kitchen. Did you ever stop to think who made it? Every time you got back from a business trip, your suitcase was already packed with clean clothes.
"Did it ever cross your mind who did that for you? And every time you were sick, there was always water and medicine on your nightstand. Did you ever even notice who put them there?"
"You never noticed any of it. Because you never really looked."
Matthew loosened his grip on her hand, but didn't let go completely.
"I know," he said, his voice rough. "I know it was you."
Grace paused, then shook her head with a faint, bittersweet smile. "Knowing and seeing are two different things. You might've known it was me, but you never actually saw me."
The boarding announcement came over the speakers again, urging the last few passengers to board.
Grace gently pulled her hand free.
"Matthew, I'm exhausted. Three years of acting like the perfect, obedient wife. I've done it long enough. I don't want to play that part anymore," she said, her voice tired.
"Go home. It's cold outside." She turned and walked through the boarding gate.
Matthew stood there, watching her disappear into the crowd.
He wanted to go after her, to stop her from leaving. But he stayed where he was.
Because he realized she was right about everything.
He had no idea what she liked to eat. He had no idea when she went to bed. He had no idea what she did on weekends.
All he knew was that for three years, every morning he woke up, she was there. Every night he came home, the house was always lit.
He'd always taken it for granted.
It wasn't until now that he realized that all those things he thought just happened were all because of her, quietly behind the scenes.
"Mr. Campbell?" David called out, running over, out of breath. "The car's waiting outside. The meeting tonight..."
"Cancel it," Matthew said.
"But..." David stammered.
"Cancel all my evening meetings from now on," Matthew said, turning to leave. "Organize my upcoming schedule. I need some time off."
David stood there, watching him walk away, completely in disbelief.
'Is this really the same workaholic Mr. Campbell?' David wondered.
Three days had passed since Grace left.
For the first time in forever, Matthew left the office right on the dot, six o'clock sharp.
When he got home, the place was pitch black. No lights, no one around.
He flicked on the lights, sat on the couch for a bit, then got up and wandered into the kitchen.
He opened the fridge. It was empty, except for a couple of bottles of water.
He suddenly remembered how the fridge used to be stuffed. His favorite soda, sliced fruit, and meals she made herself, all in containers, labeled and ready to go.
The labels said: "Monday Dinner," "Tuesday Lunch"...
He never knew when she prepared all those meals.
He walked into the bedroom and opened her closet.
It was empty.
The only thing left was a nightgown. The one she always wore, old and faded from countless washes.
He suddenly realized that in three years of marriage, he'd never once bought her any clothes.
No, that wasn't quite true.
The year they got married, he'd had his assistant deliver a card, telling her to buy whatever she wanted.
She accepted it without a word.
But that card just stayed in the drawer, never used.
Matthew pulled out his phone and opened her chat.
The last message was still from three days ago.
He scrolled up and saw that almost all the messages were from her.
Grace: [Hey, I passed by a new dessert shop today and saw your favorite tiramisu. I brought a slice home for you. It's in the fridge.]
Grace: [The weather report says it's going to get cold tonight. Remember to wear something warm.]
Grace: [I'm having dinner with Ellie tonight, so I'll be home late. Don't wait up for me.]
Grace: [Good morning.]
Grace: [Goodnight.]
He never replied to any of her messages.
Sometimes, he'd send back a single "Mm." That was about as generous as he ever got.