Chapter 4

My phone rang. It was Laura Hayes.

"I've booked your flight. It's a direct flight to Brighton at 1:30 PM," she said.

"Okay," I replied.

"Emily, what are you planning to do once you get to Brighton?" she asked.

"I'll stay at a hotel first. I'll figure out the rest when I get there," I said.

"Alright. Let me know when you arrive," she said.

"Okay," I replied.

I placed the house key on top of the shoe cabinet and then dragged my suitcase out the door.

In the elevator, I ran into my downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Williams. She glanced at my suitcase.

"Ms. Summers, are you going on a business trip?" she asked.

I nodded with a smile. "Just for a few days."

"Isn't Mr. Carter seeing you off?" she asked.

"He's at work," I replied.

The elevator reached the first floor. I stepped out of the building and hailed a taxi.

"To the airport," I said.

As the taxi pulled out of the neighborhood, I glanced back at the building.

The seventeenth floor, second window on the left. The curtains were the mint green ones I had chosen.

I turned my head back and looked ahead at the road.

When I arrived at the airport, it was noon. There was still an hour and a half before boarding.

I found a seat in the departure lounge and sat down.

My phone rang again.

This time, it wasn't Laura. It was a number saved as "Mr. Harris."

I glanced at the screen and answered the call.

"Ms. Summers, the venue contract for Brighton has been signed. You can go and check it out once you arrive," Mr. Harris said.

"Okay. Appreciate it," I replied.

"No problem. Also, about the supply chain deal we talked about last month, the other side wants to meet up soon to go over the details. Do you want to set up a time?" Mr. Harris asked.

"I'll figure it out once I arrive," I replied.

"Okay," he said.

After hanging up, I switched my phone to silent mode.

At 1 PM, they started calling for boarding.

I pulled my suitcase toward the gate when my phone screen flashed.

It was a message from David Carter.

David wrote, [I came back at noon. Where did you go?]

I didn't reply.

I turned off my phone and boarded the plane.

My seat was by the window. As the plane taxied, I watched the runway outside speed by.

Everything below grew smaller.

This city. This marriage. That man.

All of it was slipping away.

The plane took off.

At 2:45 PM.

A courier placed a brown paper envelope on the front desk at David's design firm.

"Delivery for Mr. Carter," the courier said. The receptionist glanced at it. "Mr. Carter is in a meeting. I'll pass it to him."

The receptionist placed the envelope on David's desk. The envelope wasn't sealed, and the paper was a bit soft, so it opened slightly when she set it down.

She caught a glimpse of the word "divorce."

A flicker of surprise crossed her face.

At 3 PM, David's meeting ended. He returned to his desk with a cup of coffee and saw the envelope.

When he picked it up, he could feel there was more than one paper inside.

He pulled out the papers.

The first sheet was a divorce agreement. Party A: Emily Summers. Party B: David. Emily's signature was already on the line.

The second sheet was a medical certificate. It said she was eight weeks pregnant, and had a threatened miscarriage that turned into a missed miscarriage.

His coffee cup slipped from his hand and crashed onto the desk. Coffee spilled everywhere.

Victor Chandler, at the next desk, jumped at the sudden noise.

"David? What's wrong?" he asked.

David didn't answer. All the color drained from his face in an instant.

He picked up his phone and dialed Emily's number.

"Sorry, the number you dialed has been switched off," the automated message said.

He dialed again.

"Sorry, the number you dialed has been switched off," the automated message said.

He shoved his chair back and stood up. The wheels slammed into the partition behind him, making a loud noise.

Everyone in the office stopped and looked up.

David was already rushing out the door. His coat was still hanging on the back of his chair, and he was gripping his phone.

The two sheets of paper were still spread out on the desk.

Coffee had seeped into the corner of the divorce agreement, but the word "miscarriage" was still clearly visible on the page.

Victor stood up to help clean up the mess, but then he caught sight of that word.

His hand froze in mid-air.

Then he heard his colleagues whispering by the door.

"What's wrong with Mr. Carter? He looks so pale," someone whispered.

"Looks like something happened at home," another murmured.

"Did you see what's on his desk?" someone else asked.

"Don't stare," someone warned.

But it was too late.

The front desk girl exchanged glances with two coworkers in the break room.

The news spread through the building faster than the elevator.