His justifications washed over me, leaving me cold. Five years of self–deception. I was done. He mistook my silence for acquiescence. His voice softened. “Aren’t you craving those little mooncakes from Sally’s Bakery? I stood in line this morning and got you some. They’re in the fridge. Don’t be mad at me, okay?”
I opened the fridge. The takeout bag still had
the receipt attached. The name on it was
Sarah’s. Maybe the only things he truly
remembered were the things that mattered to
Sarah.
I hung up and called my old mentor in
Switzerland. “Professor Schmidt? About that
project you mentioned… I’m in. I’ll bring the
preliminary rocket designs with me.” He’d tried
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to recruit me after graduation, urging me to join
him in his research on advanced spacecraft.
But John had just lost his parents. He needed
- me. I’d put my own dreams aside to stay with
him. We’d reconnected recently when I was
trying to secure funding for the rocket project.
He’d extended the offer again. If John no longer
needed me, neither did I. Five years had eroded
any love I had left for him.
I booked a flight for three days later and
forwarded all my current work files to Sarah.
Then I saw the rings on the table. My ring, worn
but carefully polished. His, twisted and scarred.
I remembered the red string bracelet John
always wore, a good luck charm he wouldn’t
even let me touch. Then I remembered seeing
an identical bracelet on Sarah’s wrist in the
parking garage. They’d been carrying on behind
my back, an ocean between them unable to
quench their love. I’d been the fool all along.
I tossed both rings in the trash. A text message
from John: “Sarah’s meeting with investors
tonight. You don’t drink anyway, so don’t
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bother coming. Wouldn’t want you to cramp our style.”
I closed the message and started packing. I
could drink. I’d just always chosen not to at business dinners with John. The investors never complained. They knew I held the real power. John just saw it as me being aloof and difficult. My phone buzzed with notifications from the work group chat. Someone had snapped photos of John and Sarah entering a love motel. “I heard John was married! And his wife’s in the industry, too! No wonder Sarah got the
promotion so fast. They’re probably married!” “They do make a cute couple. Too bad, I was kind of shipping John and Amelia.”
I turned off my phone and tucked my suitcase
into the back of the closet. Then I called a
lawyer to start the divorce proceedings.
The lawyer was a college friend. We got caught
up talking, and he didn’t drop me back home
until late. I thanked him and turned to see John
standing in the shadows, his face like thunder.
“Amelia! You were out with some guy! Behind
<
my back!”
