AnnaMaria
I was discharged from the hospital a full day ahead of schedule. The nurse smiled and said, “You’re healing faster than expected, Mr. Hayes.” My chest still ached from the procedure, but I forced a polite smile. The three nights in the hospital were long — constant beeping, harsh fluorescent lights, and silence where Claire’s voice should’ve been.
I never understood why she avoided hospitals — she claimed the smell of disinfectant unsettled her. I believed her… or perhaps I just wanted to believe.
The Ride Home Felt Endless
The taxi ride blurred past. The driver hummed to the radio while I watched the city roll by. I craved the comfort of home: my own sheets, Claire’s cooking, the warmth of her presence. I wanted everything to feel normal again.
Then we pulled into the driveway. Claire’s car was there already, parked crookedly, as if she’d rushed in or out. That detail sent a chill through me.
Stepping Through Silence
I walked through the dark house. Only a faint glow came from upstairs. I didn’t call her name — some inner instinct held me silent. Each stair creaked under my weight, my pulse thudding.
At the bedroom door, shadows stirred. I pushed it open just enough — and there they were: Claire and a man I’d never met, entangled in our bed.
The wedding photo on the nightstand tilted, its faces mocking. I watched in stunned silence. They didn’t notice me.
Walking Away Without a Word
I didn’t yell. I didn’t break anything. I didn’t give them the satisfaction. I turned and walked out. By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, my decision was made.
I blocked every card. Changed every lock. Secured every account.
Then I walked out the front door. The taxi was still waiting. “Airport,” I said, my voice flat. The driver glanced at me in the rear-view mirror. I didn’t explain. Just, “Drive.”
Midway through, I changed direction. “Downtown. Matthews Law Office,” I said.
Setting the Stage for What Comes Next
Carl Matthews looked up, startled. “Tom? You’re supposed to be in recovery!” he said. I slid him a folder: property deeds, account statements, a power of attorney Claire never updated.
I told him everything — no yelling, just facts.
“You want a divorce?” he asked.
“Yes. But more than that.”
He flipped through the documents. “You’ve already moved everything.”
“Everything,” I confirmed. “She thinks she owns half. She doesn’t.”
By the time she realizes it, I’ll already be gone.
