Chapter 5
I got sober after a while. The air outside the bar had been cold, grounding. Denver didn’t say much, just drove me home while I stared out the window, my thoughts numb and blurry.
When we reached the house, I murmured, “Thanks, Denver. For everything.”
He gave me a soft smile. “Anytime, Al.”
But as I stepped out of the car, I froze.
River was waiting at the door. Arms crossed. Jaw clenched. His first words sliced through the night like a blade.
‘Are you cheating on me?”
blinked. For a moment, I thought I’d imagined it. Then I laughed. Not out of amusement, but disbelief.
The nerve,” I muttered, stepping closer. “What are you even talking about?”
River didn’t hesitate. He held up his phone and pressed play.
A video. A photo. Me, slumped against Denver, arms around his neck. Laughing. Drunk.
The hug. The one I needed to stay on my feet. Of course, it must be Candice.
Who is this guy?” River demanded, his voice tight. “Why are you flirting with him?”
You know him,” I said through clenched teeth. “That’s Denver. My close friend. You’ve met him
efore.”
So?” River snapped. “Didn’t I tell you? Stay away from your friends.”
I went to a graduation celebration,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “A goodbye party.”
Why didn’t you tell me?”
Because I didn’t think you cared anymore, River,” I said quietly. “If you’d excuse me… I’d like to leep now.”
But he stepped in front of me. “No. I’m not done talking to you.”
stared at him, tired. “What do you want from me?”
I’m asking if you’re cheating.”
No,” I said flatly. “I’m not.”
River’s eyes narrowed. “If I ever find out you’re lying, Allison, you know this will ruin my
eputation.”
looked at him. Really looked at him. “How?” I asked. “No one even knows I’m your wife. The public? They think you’re single. Or that Candice is the one you love. Only a few of your closest friends even remember my name.”
“That’s not the point,” he snapped. “When you married me, you weren’t allowed to make friends. Or flirt. I am your husband. So act like a wife.”
I swallowed hard. The silence between us cracked like glass.
“Due to this,” he continued coldly, “you’re not allowed to leave the house for days. Understood?”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t cry. I just… sighed. No energy left to argue.
I turned and walked inside, not even looking back. Why was he acting this way? Was it his ego? His pride? Or something else entirely?
I would never know. But that night, while the rest of the house slept, I stayed up and made a quiet phone call.
To a divorce lawyer.
“I’d like to file for divorce,” I said softly.
And with that, the countdown truly began.
The next few days blurred together.
I stayed quiet. A shadow. Candice moved through the house like a queen preparing for a coronation-arranging every detail for River’s birthday celebration.
And I? I simply existed. Watched. Waited. Packed in silence.
The night before the party, I stood in my room, suitcase by the door. My entire life in a single
bag.
Candice appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, lips painted in victory.
‘Make sure you never come back,” she said, her voice sweet and sharp. “Understood?”
met her gaze without blinking. “I would never come back. You don’t have to worry. Feel free to be with him for the rest of your life.”
And I meant every word.
Before I left, I walked to the bedside table and placed everything that once-tied me to this place.
The signed divorce papers. My wedding ring. A gift I’d saved up for over months: a vintage watch knew he’d admired once in passing. And a small box of memories. Photos. Notes. A dried rose
from our first date.
Maybe he’d throw it all away. Maybe he wouldn’t even notice.
Didn’t matter anymore. I was done.
The next morning, I arrived at the airport early. The sun hadn’t even risen. I watched planes take off, one after another, their engines roaring toward freedom.
Then, I pulled out my phone to send him one last message.
“Sorry, I can’t come to your birthday party. I’m going to have an artist affair.”
I typed quickly, hit send, and shut off my phone as the plane began to move-only realizing later that I had accidentally deleted the word “artist” before sending.
The second I switched my phone back on, a wave of missed calls and frantic notifications crashed over the screen, all from River-freezing me in place.
