He Left Me Waiting for Three Years. So I Left Him Forever Chapter 07

He Left Me Waiting for Three Years. So I Left Him Forever Chapter 07

My first stop was Montana.

I’d heard that May and June were the best months to visit. I explored Glacier National Park and Lake

McDonald, hiked snow–covered trails through the Rockies, and watched the rising sun turn the distant peaks

gold.

Eventually, I checked into a small lodge beside the lake.

On my third night there, the owner hosted a fireside gathering for the guests.

During a round of Truth or Dare, I drew a truth card, and everyone burst into laughter. The owner raised a

hand to quiet them down.

“Is Ethan Carter your husband?”

I paused.

“Ex–husband.”

The laughter died instantly.

“Do all of you know him?”

One of the younger women spoke up.

“We saw his public apology video.”

“He said you were traveling alone and asked anyone who happened to run into you to look out for you.”

“He also asked us to tell you that he was waiting for you to come home.”

I took a sip of wine.

“So now you’re all going to try to talk me into going back to him?”

She quickly shook her head.

“No. We just wanted to cheer you up and let you know he’s miserable. You’re clearly doing much better

without him.”

“Thank you.”

“He went back to work at the hospital.”

“I see.”

“He found the discharge paperwork from your surgery among the documents you left behind. When he talked about it, he looked like he was about to cry.”

I paused with the glass halfway to my lips.

“Was your condition serious?”

“No. It was acute appendicitis. The surgery was routine.”

“In the video, he said the paperwork showed that you had gone through the entire hospital admission alone.”

“You had signed your own surgical consent forms, handled the admission paperwork yourself, and been discharged with no one there to take you home. He said he hadn’t known any of it.”

“He didn’t.”

“At the end of the video, he cried. He kept apologizing and talking about what he would’ve done differently.”

But there was no changing what had already happened.

When the pain struck, I had collapsed on the floor with both hands pressed against my abdomen.

I called 911 myself and dragged myself to the door so the paramedics could get inside.

I’d sent Ethan a message.

[Honey, can you come home? I need you.]

His answer had been an entire night of silence.

The day after my surgery, I told him I had taken sick leave.

He’d merely replied: [Get some rest if you’re tired.]

After that, I stopped telling him anything.

I set my glass down.

“Was that all he said?”

The woman shook her head, pulled up the video on her phone, and set it in front of me.

It showed the house Ethan had once shared with Serena in Southport.

The balcony garden that had once overflowed with flowers was now in ruins. Ethan pulled up every plant he’d

grown for Serena, leaving broken stems and scattered soil across the floor.

He picked up his blue slippers from beneath the entryway bench, separating them from the matching pink

pair beside them.

Then he gathered every photograph of himself and Serena from the living room and threw them into the

trash, as though he were determined to erase every trace he had ever left in that house.

He sat amid the wreckage for a long time.

Before leaving, he looked directly into the camera and said only one thing.

“My home was never in Southport.”

The woman took back her phone.

“He looks like he really loves you. Did he cheat?”

“I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter anymore.”

She gave me a thumbs–up.

“Good. Don’t look back.”

The night before I left the lodge, my social media account was suddenly flooded with messages.

Hundreds of notifications piled up, all saying some version of the same thing.

[Don’t forgive him.]

[Claire, you deserve so much better.]

[He was never worthy of you.]

[Keep going. Go as far as you can and don’t look back.]

I had waited for Ethan for three years without ever expecting anyone else to understand what I’d endured.

Yet that night, beneath the vast Montana sky, strangers finally understood every disappointment I had carried

alone.

I slowly typed out a response.

[Thank you. All of you.]

[And for the record, I’m already divorced.]

Then I uploaded a redacted copy of the divorce decree.

Within hours, the post was trending.

Just before I went to sleep, a private message from Ethan appeared.

[Claire, I visited your mom today.]

[She’s doing well. Nothing’s wrong. She just misses you.]

[I also bought replacements for all the furniture you took.]

[Serena and I talked everything through. I won’t be involved in her life anymore.]

He sent message after message, telling me every insignificant detail, exactly the way I once had with him.

I smiled, turned off the light, and went to sleep.