“Mrs. Alden, you knew?” I repeat.
She shifts uncomfortably.
“Sweetheart… I think the neighborhood knows.” My stomach drops. “I mean,” she continues awkwardly, “I was honestly waiting for you to—”
“You knew,” I cut in, my voice rising. “And you didn’t bother to tell me.”
“Era, honey—”
“I can’t believe this.” I shake my head.
She lifts her hands defensively.
“People handle these things differently,” she says carefully. “Everyone has their own way of…..coping.” I stare at her in disbelief. “And it’s not like I know her” she adds quickly. “I mean, I’ve only seen her a few times.”
“You’ve seen her?”
“Well—”
“You’ve seen her,” I repeat slowly. “And you just didn’t bother saying anything.”
Mrs. Alden sighs.
“Honey, what happens inside someone’s home isn’t really my business. I didn’t want to be rude asking about something so personal. When my husband—”
“No,” I whisper. “Please don’t.”
Because if she keeps talking, I might break right here on the sidewalk. I turn away before she can say anything else. The cold morning air bites at my skin as I walk back toward my house. It feels like I’m disappearing into something that’s swallowing me whole again.
Not from running.
Not from crying.
From something worse.
The quiet realization that everyone else saw the truth before I did. I don’t even realize I’m running until my lungs start burning. The coldmorning air cuts against my face as I hurry back toward the house. My hands are shaking as I unlock the front door and slip inside quietly. Dominic is still asleep. For a moment I stand there in the entryway, staring toward the staircase. Then I slowly walk upstairs, I move carefully down the hallway, grabbing a change of clothes from the dresser as quietly as I can.
I don’t stay long. I head back downstairs and change in the living room, pulling on my work clothes in the dim early morning light so I don’t wake him. Shoes, coat, keys. Within minutes I’m back in my car. The engine starts and I pull out of the driveway without looking back. My hands grip the steering wheel tightly as I drive. After a few minutes I press the call button on my dashboard. Clara answers on the second ring.
“Era? It’s like five in the morning. What’s wrong?”
My voice comes out steadier than I feel.
“I’m filing for divorce.”
There’s a moment of silence.
Then Clara exhales.
“Good.” The word surprises me. “I’m proud of you,” she says. “And I’m with you the whole way, okay? Whatever you need.”
My throat tightens.
“I feel so stupid,” I admit quietly.
“You’re not stupid.”
“I ignored everything,” I continue. “All the signs. I kept believing he’d change.” The road stretches ahead of me in long quiet lines. “But he’s not going to,” I say softly. “And I think… I think I’m finally realizing that.”
