My Marriage: His Debt to Another Woman Chapter 02

My Marriage: His Debt to Another Woman Chapter 02

The words washed over me like ice water.

I couldn’t hear what they said after that. I didn’t push open the door. I didn’t make a scene. I just let go of the curtain, turned, and walked toward the exit.

By the time I stepped out of the hotel, my decision was made.

Divorce.

On the drive home, a wave of nausea rolled through me. I had to pull over, and I stood on the shoulder of the road, dry-heaving until my stomach ached, but nothing came up.

When I got home, the house was empty. Jake didn’t come home that night. I wasn’t surprised.

The next morning, I didn’t cry. I didn’t check my phone. I went straight to my studio and started packing.

My tools, my spools of silver wire, the gemstones sorted neatly into their compartments, my sketchbooks yellowed with age and filled with designs—I packed them all, one by one, into boxes. To Jake and his friends, this was just my “little hobby.” To me, it was my life.

As I bent to lift a box of raw stones, the nausea surged again, stronger this time. I braced a hand against the wall, and a stray thought snagged in my mind.

My period was almost two weeks late.

I remembered the email from the clinic a few days ago, the one saying my latest test results were available on the patient portal.

I went to the study, booted up the computer, and logged into the clinic’s portal. I clicked on “My Reports.”

A line of text materialized on the screen.

[Test Result: Positive. Based on last menstrual period, pregnancy is estimated at six weeks. Fetal development appears normal.]

I stared at the words, but they wouldn’t resolve into anything I could understand.

After a moment, I printed the report. The printer whirred softly, spitting out a single sheet of paper that held a future I was utterly unprepared for.

Holding that piece of paper, I sat on the living room sofa for a long, long time.

I was still lost in a daze when I heard the key turn in the lock.

Jake was home.

He looked tired, but his expression was calm. It was the same look he always wore after a night with Chloe—the look of a man who had just done his duty and was now waiting for my silent understanding.

I clutched the report in my hand, crumpling the corners.

He took off his coat and came to a stop in front of me.

“Elara,” he began. “Chloe’s in a really bad place. I think… I think we should separate for a while. To give her a buffer. To give us some space.”