4
562words
Mom walked in and saw this, immediately hurling her shot tea at Sophie, who screamed.
“Scums, how dare you to show up? Get out!”
Dad joined her, and they chased the pair off.
Sophie never returned. Ethan however sent me whining texts. I ignored them.
A week later, I was discharged, I got home and froze. Mom gaped, “Was your place robbed? Where’s the window?”
The typhoon had passed, but the living room was soaked, the window still missing.
Curtains flapped.
Dust covered the floor. Ethan hadn’t been home in a week!
I checked his phone’s location—he was in the neighborhood, but not our house!
Fists clenched, I called him. After a while, he answered.
“Where are you?”
“I’m... home.”
“Home? Ethan, I had no idea well done!”
I hung up, packed, and sent him divorce papers.
Ethan panicked, calling, “Emily, what’s this? Divorce over something so trivial?”
“Trivial? My miscarriage is trivial? What count as important then?”
The irony of things occured to me, “Sophie’s cold is important, right? That night, the window was blown away. You didn’t come home for a week. Your phone's at Sophie’s house.”
“Ethan, if you just say you don’t love me, I’ll at least respect you as a man!”
He stammered. Sophie’s voice cut in, “Emily, don’t be mad...”
“Shut up! Hooking up with a married man, shameless! I’ll send banners to your parents, show them who you are!”
She froze, then shrieked. I hung up, leaving with my parents.
I was born and raised here, but Ethan’s family was across Portland—west side, mine on the east. Back home, my parents fumed, cursing Ethan.
“That beast! I’d never have let you marry him!”
“Dad, save it. I misjudged. We’ll find someone better.”
I soothed Dad, he sighed, I knew his heart was broken.
Ethan was a thorn, draining life out of my body. If I didn’t pull it out, I would wither.
I had my mind set on divorce, but Ethan refused.
He called, but I avoided meeting, sticking to phone talks.
“Seen the divorce papers? Any issues with the division of assets?”
“I won’t divorce, Emily. You’re heartless. One year dating, two years married, and you end it? Marriage isn’t a game!”
He dared question me?
I laughed, “That should be my word for you. What’s marriage to you then? One woman alone can’t satisfy you! You can’t let go of Sophie, so why stay married with me?”
“If you don’t sign this paper now, I’ll see you in court!”
I hung up. Furious, he texted:
“Emily, you’re not as innocent as you think. For this, you’d divorce? The doctor warned you to stop working with miscarriage risks. You didn’t listen!”
“Now you blame me? As a mother, nothing’s on you?”
His words stole my breath, pain searing. He thought that of me?
I inhaled, taking a screenshot of his texts. No need to spare him now.
I wasn’t rushing to confront him—my parents insisted on me to rest for a month first at home.
Meanwhile, Ethan and Sophie flirted unscrupulously.
Sophie sent me their ”sweet moments”, intimate photos, holding nothing back.
I saved them all as evidence.
I hadn’t returned to what had once been our home, but the cameras in the house were still active.
