Chapter 3
Kenji Sullivan called again, and I let it ring. After the missed call, he didn’t try again.
Half an hour later, Mikayla Payne updated her Instagram story. They were having a romantic moment on a hotel rooftop, with Mikayla pointing at the constellation Centaurus, mistakenly claiming it was the Big Dipper. What a comical blunder.
I lost track of time, but Kenji probably went home afterward. He called me again, his voice dripping with the slurred affection of someone who’s been drinking.
“Emmeline, help me… get my clothes off.”
I hung up immediately. Clearly, he hadn’t noticed I’d left. Not just left his house, but left his life entirely.
The divorce proceedings were still underway. The next day after work, I had just settled into my car when Kenji called again.
“Where the hell have you been? Haven’t come home, got yourself some nerve, huh?”
I could tell he was in a foul mood, but it was no concern of mine. After a long day at work, I was feeling a bit irritable too.
“Kenji, where I go is none of your business. Just worry about yourself.”
I had never stood up to him like this before. There was a moment of stunned silence on his end.
After a few seconds, he finally spoke up. “I don’t care. I just want to eat your cooking again. I’m sick of takeout.”
Kenji’s so-called “lady friends” couldn’t cook. He often said I’d spoiled him, making it hard for him to stomach anyone else’s food. He praised me while hiding his deceitful actions.
Kenji was truly a master at infidelity.
“If you have a stomachache, see a doctor. If you’re hungry, order takeout. I have no obligation to cater to you.”
With that, I ended the call, feeling a profound sense of relief. After five years of marriage, I finally spoke my truth. In the past, whenever I complained, Kenji would use his “house rules” to punish me-a cold shoulder at best or disappearing for days at worst. If I asked where he’d been afterward, he’d just say he was crashing at a friend’s place. In hindsight, those “friends” were probably all women.
He Cheated. Then Regged Me!
He seemed supremely confident in his own charm, often forwarding me messages from admirers while saying that marrying me was a stroke of luck. I only wished for this “luck” to be
revoked.
After dinner, my lawyer, Kellan Cruz, called.
He advised that the quickest way to finalize the divorce would be for Kenji to cooperate and sign. With the high divorce rate in the city, even getting a court date was a waiting game.
I called Kenji. This time, he answered on the first ring.
“What do you want? I’m busy,” he said, breathless, as if he were engaged in something
strenuous.
Just as I was about to speak, I heard Mikayla’s panting in the background. The image of their activities flashed in my mind, and I hung up in distress. My heart was pounding in my chest.
The suffocating feeling of betrayal was overwhelming, like trying to breathe underwater.
I sat quietly on the couch for an hour. Then, I called Kellan.
“Can submitting evidence of his infidelity speed things up?”
After getting an affirmative response, I placed the USB drive into a file folder.
Kenji, I’m resolute about ending this marriage.
