The Soccer Star’s Forgotten Wife Chapter 05

The Soccer Star’s Forgotten Wife Chapter 05

The morning I left, nobody noticed.

That wasn’t entirely true.

Ryan noticed.

But only because breakfast wasn’t ready.

I was downstairs before sunrise, sitting alone at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee growing cold between my hands.

The house was quiet.

For years, I had loved this time of day.

Before Adrian’s schedule.

Before Ryan’s demands.

Before the endless list of responsibilities waiting for me.

Now it felt different.

Like I was sitting in a museum dedicated to a life that no longer belonged to me.

The divorce papers rested beside my coffee.

Signed.

Completed.

Ready.

All that remained was giving them to Adrian.

I heard footsteps upstairs.

A few moments later, Ryan wandered into the kitchen rubbing his eyes.

“Mom?”

“Morning.”

He looked around.

“Where’s breakfast?”

Of course.

Not good morning.

Not how are you.

Breakfast.

I almost smiled.

Almost.

“There are eggs in the fridge.”

Ryan frowned.

“You didn’t cook?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

I took a sip of coffee.

“Because I’m not cooking today.”

The look on his face suggested I had announced the end of civilization.

“But you’re always cooking.”

I looked at my son.

And for the first time, I wondered if that was part of the problem.

Not that I cooked.

That everyone thought I always would.

Eventually Ryan groaned and pulled out his phone.

“Dad!”

A minute later Adrian walked in.

Still half asleep.

Still attractive enough to make magazine covers.

Still completely unaware that his marriage was ending.

He stopped when he saw the empty table.

“What’s going on?”

Ryan immediately pointed at me.

“Mom didn’t make breakfast.”

Adrian frowned.

Then looked at me.

“Claire?”

I folded my hands together.

“I figured the two of you could manage.”

His expression tightened.

“Manage what?”

“Breakfast.”

Silence.

Then:

“Seriously?”

I laughed softly.

“That’s exactly what I used to ask myself every day.”

Adrian clearly wasn’t interested in a conversation.

He opened the refrigerator.

Stared inside.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

As if food might magically organize itself.

Ryan looked horrified.

“Dad, can you cook?”

“Of course I can cook.”

Five minutes later, the smoke alarm disagreed.

By ten o’clock, Adrian had left for training.

Ryan had gone to school.

And I was alone.

Exactly the way I wanted.

I carried the final box downstairs.

Not much remained.

A few clothes.

Personal documents.

Photographs.

Everything else could stay.

The furniture.

The decorations.

The expensive house.

They had never felt like mine anyway.

My phone buzzed.

Daniel Reed.

I hesitated before answering.

“Hello?”

“You sound exhausted.”

I laughed.

“Good morning to you too.”

“Rough day?”

I looked around the empty living room.

“No.”

Surprisingly.

“No, I think it’s actually a pretty good day.”

That seemed to surprise him.

“That’s new.”

“It is.”

A brief silence followed.

Then Daniel spoke carefully.

“Have you made a decision?”

My eyes drifted toward the consulting contract.

“About the job?”

“Yeah.”

I smiled.

“I signed it.”

“Congratulations.”

The word hit me unexpectedly hard.

Congratulations.

Not thank you.

Not that’s nice.

Not do whatever makes you happy.

Congratulations.

As though I had accomplished something.

For a moment, I couldn’t speak.

Daniel noticed.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

I swallowed.

“I’m okay.”

This time, it was true.

At noon, I drove to my new apartment.

It wasn’t nearly as large as the Hale mansion.

But it felt peaceful.

The moment I stepped inside, I could breathe.

No schedules.

No expectations.

No pressure.

Just silence.

My silence.

For the first time in years, it belonged to me.

I was unpacking dishes when my phone rang.

Adrian.

I stared at the screen.

Then answered.

“What?”

No greeting.

Apparently I was learning from him.

“Where are you?”

I glanced around the apartment.

“Out.”

“Out where?”

I smiled.

Interesting.

He sounded irritated.

Not worried.

Just inconvenienced.

“I didn’t realize I needed permission.”

“Claire.”

There it was again.

That tone.

“I got home.”

“And?”

“Where are you?”

I leaned against the counter.

Then I said the words I’d spent years holding back.

“Why?”

Silence.

Actual silence.

Because Adrian Hale had no answer.

Why did he need to know?

Because dinner wasn’t ready?

Because Ryan needed help with homework?

Because his parents were visiting tomorrow?

Because somebody needed to manage his life?

Finally he spoke.

“Ryan’s asking for you.”

That almost made me laugh.

Not because it was funny.

Because it was predictable.

Not I miss you.

Not come home.

Ryan’s asking for you.

I closed my eyes.

“He’ll survive.”

Then I hung up.

That evening, my phone exploded.

Missed calls.

Texts.

Voicemails.

Not from Adrian.

From Ryan.

Mom where are you?

When are you coming home?

Dad burned dinner.

Grandma is mad.

Please call me.

I stared at the messages.

A year ago, they would’ve worked.

A month ago, they would’ve worked.

Even last week, they would’ve worked.

Today they didn’t.

Because every message was about what I did.

Not who I was.

Not one said:

I miss you.

Not one said:

Are you okay?

Not one asked:

Why did you leave?

Then another text arrived.

This one from Adrian.

Come home.

Just two words.

No apology.

No explanation.

No accountability.

Just a command.

Like I was an employee who had abandoned a shift.

I looked at the message for several seconds.

Then typed back.

No.

The response came immediately.

Stop being childish.

Something inside me finally snapped.

Not dramatically.

Not loudly.

Just completely.

For years I had accepted being ignored.

Being dismissed.

Being taken for granted.

But childish?

After everything?

My fingers moved across the screen.

You spent years treating me like staff.

Ryan treats me like staff.

Your parents treat me like staff.

The difference is that staff usually get paid.

I hit send.

Then I blocked his number.

For the first time in seven years.

Silence.

Real silence.

The kind that feels terrifying for exactly five seconds.

Then feels like freedom.

Across the city, Adrian stared at his phone.

The blocked notification appeared on the screen.

He blinked.

Read it again.

Then again.

As though the words might change.

They didn’t.

Ryan sat beside him on the couch.

“Dad?”

Adrian didn’t answer.

Ryan tugged his sleeve.

“Dad.”

“What?”

“When is Mom coming back?”

The question hung in the room.

Heavy.

Uncomfortable.

For the first time all week, Adrian didn’t have an answer.

Because for the first time since he’d met Claire Bennett…

She wasn’t waiting for him anymore.

And neither of them knew what to do about it.