You’ve got this. Proud of you. – S
I remember that morning. Scrimmage day. I was a mess, trying to get the new playbook locked in, worrying about reps, about the kids, about my job. I came out from the shower and saw that note stuck on my protein shake.
I didn’t think much of it then. Just kissed her temple, said thanks, and rushed out the door.
Now it feels like the only thing left in this house that still has warmth.
I peel it off carefully, folding the edge between my thumb and index finger. The paper’s soft from being moved around, but the ink’s still clear.
Proud of you.
My throat goes tight.
I didn’t deserve that then and I definitely don’t deserve it now.
I slide the note into my back pocket, more reflex than decision. I don’t want to leave it there on the fridge, staring back at an empty kitchen like some kind of joke. But I’m not ready to throw it away either.
I move back to the doorway and lean against the frame, looking out over the living room again.
This is what the end of a marriage looks like when no one throws a plate. No screaming. No slamming doors off hinges. Just a woman loading her life into cardboard while a man finally shuts up long enough to realize what he’s losing.
I drag a hand down my face.
Sierra deserved better.
She deserved someone who looked at her like she hung the damn moon. Someone who made her feel like the center of their world, and not a placeholder they hoped might eventually fit. Someone who would choose her first, every day, every moment, without hesitation or history pulling them backward.
I wanted to be that. I just wasn’t.
I think about the fundraiser, about the way Sarah stood across that room in that green dress, acting like nothing in our shared history mattered while I tried not to fall apart every time she laughed.
I think about how fast I moved when Miller opened his mouth outside.
I think about how Sierra looked tonight when Griff said, “You didn’t choose her.”
She didn’t argue.
She could have. She could’ve fought for me even then, could’ve tried to pretend Griff was wrong, that I’d shown up in all the ways that counted.
But she stayed quiet because we both know the truth.
I love Sierra. I care about her. I wanted a life with her. Those things aren’t lies.
But there’s always been someone else sitting in the back of my head. Someone I neverreallylet go of, even when I swore I had.
I never cheated. Not with my hands. Not with my body.
But my heart is another story.
I push off the doorframe and head down the hall, needing to move. The bedroom door’s open. The bed’s made. There’s a bare stretch on the dresser where her jewelry box used to sit and instead it’s her wedding rings.
Two small circles of gold she didn’t take with her. They sit there, neat and deliberate, like a period at the end of a sentence marking the end.
Beside them is a manila envelope.
It looks official. The kind of envelope you’d expect from a lawyer’s office.
I don’t need to open it to know what it is.
