Chapter 3

I stripped the sheets, the duvet cover, and the pillowcases off the bed and shoved them into a trash bag.

I threw everything out.

Then I opened the closet and began packing my things.

I didn't have many clothes. One medium suitcase was enough to fit everything.

For three years, I barely bought anything for myself. Two-thirds of the closet was filled with his clothes.

I dragged my suitcase into the guest bedroom.

I wiped down the bed, put on fresh sheets, and hung my clothes up one by one.

Once I was done, I sat on the small bed and texted my best friend, Jenna.

I need a divorce lawyer. Do you know anyone good?

She replied with a question mark within seconds.

Then her call came through.

I picked up, and her frantic voice blasted through the speaker. "What’s going on? Weren't you guys doing IVF? Why the sudden divorce?"

I gave her a quick summary of what happened today.

Silence stretched on the other end for three seconds, followed by a loud, angry curse.

"That absolute bastard! You should have left him ages ago! I knew he was trash from day one."

"Jenna," I interrupted her gently. "I just need a reliable lawyer."

"I got you," Jenna said, her voice softening. "Clara... are you okay?"

I gripped my phone, watching the sky outside turn dark.

"I’m okay."

In fact, I felt better than I had in the last three years.

Jenna was incredibly efficient. She sent me a contact card that very evening.

"This is Valerie," Jenna said in a voice memo. "One of my coworkers used her for a divorce. Her ex cheated and tried to hide his assets, and Valerie absolutely destroyed him in court."

I saved the contact.

Just as I was debating whether to call her tonight, I heard the front door open.

Jared was back.

His heavy footsteps echoed from the entryway and stopped in the living room.

"Clara? Where's dinner?"

I opened the guest room door and walked out.

He had turned on the living room lights. He stood by the coffee table, staring at the empty dining table with a scowl.

"You didn't even cook?"

He smelled like alcohol, his face flushed. The stench of beer drifted over as he spoke.

"There are leftovers in the fridge. Heat them up yourself," I said, turning back to my room.

He let out a sharp laugh behind my back.

"What, throwing a tantrum now? You think you have the right to play games with me?"

I stopped.

"Jared, I’m not playing games. I’m divorcing you."

"And I told you, I'm not signing." He walked over to the couch, slumped down, and turned on the TV. "You're stuck with me. I'll drag this out until you rot."

Looking at him sprawling on the couch, I felt a wave of absurdity.

This man had brought another woman into our bed this afternoon.

And now, he acted like nothing had happened, watching a football game and expecting me to cook for him.

"Then I'll file a lawsuit," I said quietly.

His hand on the remote froze. He turned to look at me.

"A lawsuit? Do you know how long that takes? Six months, a year, maybe longer." He sneered, looking me up and down. "Besides, you're just a housewife. What do you know? How are you even going to hire a lawyer? Do you even know where the courthouse is?"

"Clara, if you have any brains left, you'll sign an agreement giving up all the assets. I'll let you leave peacefully. Let's not make this ugly."

Peacefully.

Hearing those words from his mouth was the ultimate irony.

"I don't care about peaceful," I said, looking him in the eye. "I am divorcing you. And I will fight for every single penny that is mine."

His expression shifted, hardening.

"What is wrong with you lately? You used to be submissive."

What did I use to be like?

I used to do whatever he said.

I didn't dare to talk back, object, or make demands.

If he raised his voice, I would hide under the blanket and cry all night.

If he complained about my cooking, I would spend hours studying new recipes.

If he said I wasn't good enough, I would desperately try to change.

But no matter what I did, he was never satisfied.

"People change."

I walked back into the guest room and locked the door.

He kicked the door hard from the outside, making a deafening bang.

"Clara! Get out here!"