The pen slips from my fingers and clatters to the table.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, stepping back. “I—I forgot—I’m late. For rehearsal. I’m supposed to be at the studio. I—”
Elena blinks. “Mrs. Easton, this will only take—”
“I know, I just—” I’m already moving, backing toward the door. “I’m so sorry; I completely lost track of time. I’ll—I’ll come back. After he signs. That might be easier. You said he’s coming tomorrow, yes?”
“Yes, but—”
“Good.” My smile feels barely there, and his receptionist looks terrified for me. “Then I’ll sign after. Once everything is… ready. Thank you,” I say, and then spin around and physically run for the elevator door.
“Mrs. Easton, are you alright?” I can hear Elena's assistant running quickly towards me.
I hit the elevator button three more times in rapid succession. It’s open, and I jump in, hitting the close door before she can stop me.
I stagger back three steps until I hit the back wall as soon as the elevator starts moving.
I couldn’t sign. I walked in ready to do it, prepared to carve my own heart out and leave it bleeding on the paperwork, but I couldn’t make my hand move.
My phone buzzes in my bag, and I scream at first and then realize it’s just a phone.
I reach into my bag. For a moment, I think it might be Scottie, like he can somehow sense what I almost did, and my whole body aches to see his name.
It’s not him.
It’s the email notification again.
From the lawyer’s office. Subject line:Divorce Pleadings – Signature Reminder.
My stomach turns.
“I’ll do it,” I whisper to no one. “I’ll do it. I just… I need more time. I need to see his ink on the paperwork first. Then I can do it.”
I push out onto the street into the cool Seattle air.
The world is still moving, people rushing by with coffee cups and umbrellas, cars honking, lights changing.
It feels wrong that the world isn’t crumbling with me. That no one out here knows the hell I just endured.
I pull my coat tighter around myself and walk away from the building without looking back.
For now at least, on paper, I’m still his wife, and somehow that makes me take my first deep breath since I entered the building.
Scottie
I walk into the lawyer's office, wiping my sweating palms on my jeans before I reach the front desk.
“Hi,” I say to the receptionist. “I’m Scottie Easton. I’m here to sign the… uh, the paperwork for the divorce.”
The word tastes like something I shouldn’t say out loud. Not about her. Not about us.
The receptionist looks up, eyes flicking to my face with a spark of recognition. She’s probably seen my head on team graphics around town. Sometimes the real world bleeds into the sports one.
“Mr. Easton, yes,” she says. “We’ve been expecting you. One moment, let me just pull up your file.”
Her nails clack on the keyboard for a few seconds. Then she frowns, just a little.
My stomach tightens. “What?”
