Chapter 5
For the past month, I’ve been living in a new apartment I bought for myself.
After ten years with Emmett, our finances were hopelessly tangled.
I spent days and nights buried in meetings with my lawyer, trying to sort out the division of assets–there was no end in sight.
Emmett’s calls came in more often than spam, sometimes hundreds a day, relentless and unceasing.
He must have realized I’d blocked his number, because the texts started pouring in like a flood.
“Marina, there has to be a limit to your tantrums. You’re not some teenager anymore.
“Who else would want you besides me? You’re 30–your prime is long gone.
“Marina, Paula’s just a kid. Why stoop to her level?
“Stop this nonsense. You finally have some money and don’t know how to spend it?
“A 35,000–dollar wedding dress, just like that? It’s nothing but a pile of rags. Paula’s still nursing that slap you gave her, but have you ever spared a thought for the living?”
I read every message.
Then I yanked the SIM card out of my phone and tossed it aside.
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Chapter 5
Yet I couldn’t stop the tears from splattering onto the couch.
These days, Paulina keeps posting photos from the hospital in our group
chat.
In every picture, Emmett was there in the background.
“Emmie is such a dream husband now that we’re married.
“Yesterday, my stomach hurt, and he even hand–washed my dirty underwear.”
I stared at those photos, and memories of the coldest nights in New York came flooding back.
We lived in an apartment with no heat; I got my period, and the only water for washing my stained clothes was ice–cold.
Emmett had walked in on me scrubbing them, hands numb from the cold.
He’d panicked and backed out fast.
“Men shouldn’t see things like that–it’s bad luck, Rina. It’s not that I didn’t want to help, I just couldn’t get past it.”
Back then, I’d brushed it off, thinking it was nothing.
Turns out, people really are different.
Late at night, my phone lit up with a notification from Instagram Reels.
Someone with the username “O” had posted a video.
“They say if a woman lives with someone for more than three years, basically marriage. But what about ten years?”
it’s
The comments were full of laughter.
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Chapter 5
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“Ten years? She’s used up, just throw her out. Marrying her is a bargain- after all, even a maid gets routine after a decade.”
“O” replied with a laughing emoji.
“Yeah, she’s a little loose, but still usable. After ten years, even a toy deserves a little attachment.”
I stared at “O’s” profile picture.
No face, but that familiar jawline–I’d seen it for over 3,000 days. I knew exactly who it was.
Suddenly, the wind whipped through an unlatched window, filling the room with the biting chill of deep winter.
It cut straight through me.
At dawn, I cleared my schedule.
I went back to the place Emmett and I used to share to pack up my things.
As soon as I opened the door, the first thing I saw was a black lace bra boldly draped over our wedding photo.
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