CALLIE
Iwoke to the rattle of the ancient air conditioner groaning through the window, the sound vibrating unevenly. A dull ache pulsed behind my eyes, the kind that came from crying until exhaustion finally dragged me under. The mattress dipped in the middle, and the springs poked my hip every time I shifted, but I didn’t have the energy to move.
This hotel wasn’t great, and I had to keep reminding myself that I had chosen it because it was cheap and safe. Comfort wasn’t something I could afford right now—not when I didn’t trust myself not to crumble.
I scrubbed at my face with both hands, trying to make sense of the morning. For a moment, I let myself pretend none of this had happened. That I hadn’t walked out on my marriage. That I hadn’t spent the past few days cycling through grief, anger, resolve, and back to grief again.
But pretending didn’t last. The truth sat squarely in my chest every waking moment. I still loved Ethan, but this wasn’t a creative writing assignment I’d given my students. There was no revising away the small hurts or the bigger ones piled on top. Loving Ethan didn’t change how lonely I’d felt standing at theedge of that terrace. Or that my trust in him had eroded so much I had truly believed he was happy to learn Sophie was in love with him.
His message about not working with her anymore after her confession was the only reason I’d been tempted to text him back. But knowing I’d misunderstood that moment didn’t fix everything else that had been breaking between us long before the gala.
Rolling onto my back, my throat felt tight again, but I refused to cry again. At least not right now.
Loving him didn’t mean I had to go back. I didn’t have the quiet ways I’d made myself smaller just to keep our life smooth. It didn’t erase how much it hurt that he hadn’t noticed all the ways his mother tried to belittle me.
I pressed a hand to my sternum, breathing past the ache.
I could still love him and take time for myself. And for the first time since I left, that felt like clarity instead of cowardice. Choosing myself wasn’t betrayal.
By the time I dragged myself into the shower, the water was already cooling. I stood under the spray anyway, bracing my palms against the tile while the cheap shampoo stung my eyes. Everything about this hotel room felt like the universe was determined to remind me that my life had come apart at the seams.
Stepping out and wrapping myself in one of the scratchy towels, I forced myself through the motions. Moisturizer, combing my hair, slipping into leggings and a T-shirt that had seen better days. It helped a little.
The thin chair creaked under me as I sat down at the small round table and opened my laptop, bracing myself for another emotional breakdown. That was the real reason I hadn’t taken my work to a café or campus. At least if I fell apart again here, no one would see.
My inbox pinged as it loaded, and I clicked through the usual mix of assignment notifications and department emails. Then I saw a message that made me pause. It was from one of my students whom I’d worried about all semester because he continued to struggle even while attending every single virtual office hour.
Professor Prescott, I just wanted to say thank you for the notes you gave me on my last paper. I finally feel like I’m understanding the structure we’ve been working on. I revised the draft using your feedback, and it actually makes sense now. I even showed it to my girlfriend, and she said it was the best thing I’ve written. Thank you for not giving up on me.
My breath caught as the corners of my mouth lifted into my first smile in days. I reread the message twice, and the words settled into places that had felt hollow since the night of the gala. It reminded me that there was a part of my life untouched by what had happened with Ethan and Margot’s passive-aggressive contempt.
I closed my eyes and let the warmth settle in my chest.
My marriage might be falling apart, but my purpose hadn’t disappeared with it. For the first time since I’d packed my bags and walked out the door, I remembered I had value outside of being Ethan’s wife.
With more pep in my step than I’d had since I checked into the hotel, I made myself a cup of terrible instant coffee and carried it back to the little table. I felt steadier than I had when I woke up, but that lasted all of three minutes.
Out of habit, I opened my phone to check the weather, but a social media notification for a new post by my mother-in-law popped up on the screen.
I told myself not to look, but I opened the app anyway.
Her post had an image of a floral arrangement in a crystal vase on her dining table. The lighting was perfect, and the photo staged to pair with a caption that made my pulse spike.
A mother’s heart aches when distance grows with the child she devoted her life to. Please keep Ethan in your thoughts as he navigates so much at home right now.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Margot excelled at weaponizing perception.
I fought the reflexive urge to defend myself against an accusation she hadn’t even made outright. She didn’t need to. She was skilled at implying just enough to let everyone else fill in the blanks.
I exhaled slowly, letting the sting fade into resolve. Margot didn’t post that because she was actually worried about Ethan. She posted it because she wanted me to scramble to earn a place she’d already decided I didn’t deserve. I refused to play this game with her any longer.
I tapped the menu icon and unfollowed her. Then I went one step further and blocked her account. Now she could put up as many passive-aggressive posts as she wanted, and I wouldn’t have to see them.
Then I opened my contacts and scrolled to her number. I hadn’t bothered to read any of her texts or listen to her voicemails since I left Ethan. The last thing I needed was for her to lay all of the blame for my failed marriage at my feet. Or evenworse, to gloat because she’d finally gotten what she wanted—me out of her precious son’s life.
I blocked her there too and set the phone down.
For the first time in far too long, I felt something close to solid ground beneath me. But I still had a headache from dealing with Margot.
