It would get me started because it's quite clear that I won't be able to leave right away.
My brain is already organizing a to-do list. I need a job with a steady income first, then a lawyer, then I can go from there...
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Atlas standing in thedoorway. One of his big hands is braced on the doorframe, his broad body filling the entrance like it always has.
I don't turn to him. Instead, I walk into our closet, rip off my boots, and place them on the shelf. Then I open the dresser, reaching past my normal sleepwear of a t-shirt and panties, I grab my coziest, softest pajamas as a treat.
And you know what? The boys aren't here because I had hoped tonight would be a night for us.
Now, I think I'm going to make it a night forme.
I'm gonna take aneverything shower.I'm going to wash my hair and maybe do the deep conditioning treatment Taylor gave me.Ooh, I'll do a sheet mask too.I'll moisturise my entire body with that new bergamot and lavender-scented lotion and maybe even paint my toenails.
That plan puts a small smile on my face.
Then he opens his mouth and ruins it.
"Where have you been?” Atlas asks, his voice flat.
The tone isn't worried, it's worse—he's genuinely confused.
Turning to face my husband, his eyes immediately drop to the ground, like he doesn't even want to look at me.
Am I that grotesque looking... or is it guilt?
Has he done something, and he can't meet my eye because I'll know? Or is it pure disinterest?
For a second, the old version of me almost answers to tell him I was waiting for him at couple’s therapy before I snap my mouth shut.
No.
Why should I even answer? Why should I exert even more mental labour for him?
He should already know where I've been, so he can work to figure it out on his own.
Without a word, I grab my fluffy robe from the hook and brush past him to our ensuite bathroom.
"Wendy?"
I don’t answer, I just close the door and press the lock with a satisfying click.
"Wendy?"
Surprised you even remember my name.
I lean against the door for a second more, calming my pounding heart. Atlas is on the other side of the door, I canfeelhim there. There’s something inside of me that’s just always aware of his presence. I always joked that I could find him sight unseen.
I almost want him to burst in the door and demand what’s wrong. I want him to show me some emotion. I want him to show that he still cares, that it was all a mistake and he still loves me and wants to fix things.
I hold my breath, anticipation and hope buzzing under my skin, but I hear his footsteps leave the room.
The disappointment tastes sour.
I only allow it to settle for a second, before I turn on our shower and grab my self-care tools—a new razor, body scrub, a soft washcloth, and a hair mask.
When I step into the hot shower, I take my time taking care of myself.
And I continue to plan.
