He Left Me Waiting for Three Years. So I Left Him Forever Chapter 02

He Left Me Waiting for Three Years. So I Left Him Forever Chapter 02

I called Ethan.

The line connected almost immediately.

“Ethan, we’re already divorc—”

“Sorry, this isn’t Ethan.”

It was Serena.

“Who is this?”

“I’m a friend of Ethan’s.”

I fell silent for a few seconds.

“Were you trying to reach him? He spent all night packing and didn’t get any sleep.”

“You can tell me what you need.”

I almost laughed at the irony.

I was about to hang up when Ethan’s voice came through the phone.

“Who is it?”

“I think it’s… your wife.”

A moment later, Ethan took the phone.

“Claire? Did something happen?”

“Who is she?”

Ethan went silent for a long moment.

“A friend.”

“Just a friend?”

“Yes, just a friend. Don’t overthink it.”

“Are the two of you flying back together?”

“Yeah. She’s not in good health, and I’m a doctor. It’ll be easier for me to keep an eye on her.”

An airport announcement sounded in the background.

“By the way, don’t you like flowers?”

“I’m bringing you a little flower seedling.”

He ended the call before I could respond.

I walked out onto the balcony.

The flowerpots still sat on the rack, but the soil inside them had dried into hard, cracked clumps. When the wind swept across the balcony, dust rose into the air.

Nothing could grow in that soil anymore.

My phone lit up with another message from Ethan.

[Boarding. Don’t call.]

He had sent me that exact message 356 times.

Whenever he couldn’t be bothered to deal with me, that was all I received.

He’d done it while Serena was in surgery.

Now he was doing it again.

“There won’t be a next time,” I murmured.

Ethan came home at ten the following morning.

His hair was shorter, and faint shadows lay beneath his eyes, but he seemed gentler somehow.

I stared at him for a few seconds.

He chuckled and loosely drew me into his arms.

“Three years apart, and now you don’t recognize me?”

“Maybe I don’t.”

He ruffled my hair.

“That’s cold. I even brought you a flower.”

It was little more than a straight stem with a few scattered green leaves. There wasn’t a single blossom on it.

Something hit the floor with a sharp clatter.

I turned toward the sound.

A white pill bottle lay on its side. The label read omeprazole. It was medication for stomach problems.

“Is that yours?”

“It’s… Serena’s.”

“Your friend?”

“Yeah.”

“Is she sick?”

“Yes. It’s serious. When the pain flares up, she can’t eat a thing.”

“Then why were you carrying her medication?”

“I must’ve packed it by mistake.”

He lied again.

Ethan took my hand and led me toward the balcony.

“Let’s not talk about that. We should plant the flower.”

The moment he saw the cracked, dried soil, he paused.

“It’s fine. I’ll ask Serena to bring some potting soil over later.”

“How’s your mother?”

“She’s… mostly recovered.”

“When are you free? I’d like you to take me to see her.”

His grip tightened around the seedling.

“Another time.”

Another lie.

I didn’t say anything else.

At eight that evening, I received a call from the long-term care facility where Ethan’s grandmother lived.

Ethan had gone out for a walk after dinner and still hadn’t come home.

“Claire, Ethan left his phone here. Come pick it up for him.”

“He visited you tonight?”

“Yes. He brought a friend with him.”

“Serena?”

“Yes.”

“You know her?”

“I knew her long before I knew you. I practically watched her grow up.”

“Do you like her?”

“Of course I do. My grandson likes her, so I like her, too.”

My eyes stung.

“Since you like her so much, why don’t you ask her to visit you more often from now on?”

“No!”

Her answer came so quickly that I froze.

“Ethan would never let Serena do the dirty, exhausting work. That’s what you’re for.”

My throat closed, and for several seconds, I couldn’t force out a single word.

She was Ethan’s grandmother.

She wasn’t mine.

Yet during all three years of our marriage, I’d been the one taking care of her.

When she was bedridden and couldn’t move, I changed her bedding, cleaned her, and emptied her bedpan.

I brought every dose of medicine and handled every need she had.

When she finally regained enough strength to hold a full conversation, it was because I had spent months managing every detail of her recovery.

I had once called Ethan and asked him to come home.

He’d only said, “You’re already there, aren’t you?”

Because of that one sentence, I treated his grandmother as if she were my own.

Later, when I finally moved her into a long-term care facility, Ethan called just to accuse me of abandoning her.

After three years of sacrifice, all I had earned was the knowledge that Ethan couldn’t bear to let Serena do any of the hard work.

“It’s late, Grandma. You should get some sleep.”

“All right. Tomorrow’s my birthday. Remember to invite Serena over for dinner.”

After the call ended, the apartment fell silent again.

Ethan returned at ten.

“Grandma said you left your phone with her.”

He froze with one shoe half off.

“You know?”

“Why was Serena there?”

“Don’t misunderstand. She cares about Grandma, so I brought her along to visit.”

“You brought her, but you didn’t bring me?”

“You see Grandma all the time.”

“It isn’t the same.”

He gave me a puzzled look.

“How is it different?”

“Because being brought there meant something different.”

I had gone because everyone expected me to show up and take responsibility.

Serena had gone because Ethan had chosen to bring her.

Those things weren’t remotely the same.

“All right, all right. Let’s not fight, okay?” He lifted both hands in exaggerated surrender. “From now on, we’ll do whatever you want.”

He made it sound as though I’d always had the final say.

During the three years we’d lived apart, that was the sentence he’d said to me most often.

Anything the apartment needed and every decision about Grandma’s care had always been left to me.

Even the wedding ring he had never gotten around to wearing had somehow become my responsibility too.