I was terrified of losing him to prison, and now even though he’s a free man, I might be losing him anyway. I don’t know if I’m ready.
When I married him, I wanted it to be forever. But if he wants out, if he’s unhappy, how can I force him to stay?
“I don’t know. I just… I need some time to think.”
“Fine.” I walk away, leaving him alone in the living room.
Chapter 19
Iwake up feeling like a heavy hand is pressed to my mouth and nose. I gasp for air.
Nine hours of sleep and I’m still drained of energy.
I should get out of bed, but I can’t. I don’t want to. No baby is crying for milk or a diaper change. No husband is waiting to have breakfast with me. It’s just me and the bed.
I feel safer with the covers sheltering me, so I remain buried under them for another hour, staring at the chandelier above me. I follow the rays of the sun with my eyes until they collide with the crystals and bounce back.
If I’m honest, I’m waiting for Alex to walk into our room and tell me it’s not true, that asking for a break was a mistake.
After he told me he needed space, I planned to leave immediately, but in the end, I couldn’t do it. He’s still my husband, and I’m not one to give up that easily. When we got married, I vowed to stand by him through thick and thin.
In the past, we often emotionally drifted apart, but we always found our way back to each other.
He doesn’t come. The only person who enters the room is May holding a steaming mug.
“Tea for you?”
“Yes, thanks.” I turn to look the other way so she doesn’t see me cry.
I can hear her tiptoeing to the bed as if the floor is made of broken glass and she’s afraid to get cut. She puts the tea on my nightstand. The peppermint aroma awakens my senses.
“Have you seen my husband?” I ask before May leaves the room.
She folds her hands in front of her, twisting them like they’re a wet dishtowel.
“He left very early this morning,” she says. “He said he’s going to Dallery and won’t be back until late tonight.” She stops wringing her hands and clasps them in front of her. “He left something for you. I’ll get it.”
She walks out of the room and returns with a large white envelope.
She places it on the nightstand next to the tea.
The fragile shred of hope I’ve been holding onto is dwindling. The fact Alex has left me a letter instead of talking to me in person is confirmation that everything is shattered.
Our marriage is as good as over. As much as it hurts, I have to accept my new reality.
May hesitates in the doorway. “Anything else I can do for you, Mrs. Watson?”
“May, you don’t have to worry about me.”
Throughout the day, she often pops in to see if I need anything. Given that my mother used to be a maid, I don’t feel comfortable having one tending to me. That’s why I hardly ask May for anything. But she continues to offer her help. Sometimes she brings what she thinks I might need in a particular moment, like the peppermint tea she just brought in.
“I’m sorry for your troubles,” she says before disappearing through the door.
She knows what’s going on.
Did she hear us talking? Did she overhear Alex talking to his mother, perhaps on the phone?
It can’t be comfortable for her to be surrounded by doom and gloom and the unnatural silence between husband and wife all day. I bet she’s relieved when her duties are over and she can return home to her own family. I hope she’s happier than I am.
