Chapter 8
As the car pulled away from the courthouse, Evelyn leaned her forehead against the window, watching the familiar cityscape peel away inch by inch.
She thought she would cry. But her eyes just ached–dry, red, not a single tear in sight.
“You hungry?” Claire Hays asked, glancing sideways from behind the wheel. “Want to grab something to
eat?”
Evelyn shook her head. Her fingers subconsciously brushed the faint pale ring on her left hand.
The skin where the wedding band used to rest was paler than the rest of her hand. Like a scar that memory
had carved, not time.
“Stop looking at it,” Claire said, reaching over to cover her hand. “He’s not worth it.”
Evelyn let out a small hum and turned her face back to the window.
The airport buzzed with travelers and white noise, everyone moving forward, except her. Claire walked ahead, dragging a suitcase behind her, turning back every few steps like she was afraid Evelyn might
disappear.
Evelyn followed, her footsteps light and unsteady.
“Here.” Claire handed her a boarding pass. “Get some rest on the flight. I’ll wake you when we land–new
city, clean slate.”
Evelyn looked down at the ticket. The destination was a southern city–one she’d never been to before.
She opened her mouth, wanting to say something. In the end, she just nodded.
“If you need to cry, then cry.” Claire passed her a tissue. “Don’t bottle it up.”
Evelyn shook her head and forced the tears back.
She couldn’t cry. Not now. Not while pieces of him were still lodged in her. If she cried, it would mean she
still cared.
The moment the plane lifted off, her stomach dropped with the shift in gravity, and her heart sank even deeper.
She gripped the armrest and closed her eyes.
“Feeling sick?” Claire asked.
“No.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I was just remembering the last time I was on a plane—it was for our honeymoon.”
Chapter 8
Vita Mahiong 4.5
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Claire hot her a glare. “That man lost the right to live in your head, Evelyn.”
Evelyn didn’t respond. She turned to the window and stared into the clouds.
The flight attendant brought the meal tray. Evelyn picked up her fork, but not a bite went down.
Her stomach felt like a stone, every breath an effort.
“Eat something, at least,” Claire frowned. “You’re skin and bones already.”
Evelyn forced down a bite of bread. It lodged in her throat like gravel.
By the time they landed, darkness had swallowed the sky, just like it had swallowed the past.
The unfamiliar city sparkled beneath a curtain of darkness. At the airport exit, cold wind lifted Evelyn’s hair,
and for a second she just stood there, blank.
There were no more shadows of Brandon Caldwell here. No mother–in–law to tiptoe around. No suffocating
routines.
“My brother’s picking us up,” Claire said, nodding toward a tall young man waving in the distance.
Evelyn stared at him, stunned. She couldn’t reconcile this poised, handsome man with the chubby little boy
in her memory.
“Evelyn,” Ryan Hays said as he took her suitcase. “You must be exhausted.”
His voice was calm, kind, gently laced with concern.
In the car, Claire suddenly pulled out a tiny pair of pliers. “Gimme your phone.”
“What?”
“Your SIM card. It’s gone.” She yanked it out and tossed it out the window. “From today on, he can’t find you. And you don’t owe him a damn thing.”
Evelyn watched the city blur past, and finally–finally–tears streamed down her cheeks.
From the rearview mirror, Ryan glanced at her and said gently, “I set up the easel on the balcony. Claire told me you used to love painting.”
Evelyn blinked. It had been so long since she’d picked up a brush.
After the wedding, Brandon was always too busy. His mother needed constant care. Over time, Evelyn forgot that she’d once been a girl who loved splashing color onto canvas.
The traffic light turned red. The car slowed to a stop.
On the sidewalk, a couple was fighting. The woman hit the man with her purse, sobbing uncontrollably.
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Evelyn looked away, her tears falling harder.
Claire reached over and took her icy fingers. “Don’t look. It’s all behind you now.”
Yeah. It was over.
Seven years of love. Two years of marriage. All that was left was a broken body and a shattered heart.
They pulled into a quiet, tree–lined neighborhood. A modest brick building loomed ahead, nothing grand, but finally hers.
Evelyn looked up at it.
“We’re home,” Ryan said.
“Home?”
She stood in the unfamiliar hallway, the word echoing like a foreign language.
From this moment on… she had no home to return to.
Her heart clenched like a fist was squeezing it from the inside, the pain folding her in half.
She had held it together for so long–but now she collapsed to the floor, sobbing with everything she had.
C
