I Gave Him Ten Years, He Said I Didn’t Get Art Chapter 03

I Gave Him Ten Years, He Said I Didn’t Get Art Chapter 03

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell chimed.

I dried my hands and opened the door, as Jenna burst inside carrying two oversized grocery bags.

“I’m starving! The fried chicken is still piping hot!”

She kicked off her shoes, then froze at the sight of Thomas and Mabel sitting side-by-side at the carving bench. Mabel twirled a wood shaving between her fingers, gesturing animatedly to Thomas.

Jenna’s bright smile vanished completely. She slammed the bags down hard on the dining table, the plastic crinkling sharply.

“Well, look who’s here—the famous master artist, entertaining guests on a Saturday afternoon in his own home.”

Thomas’s brows knit together in anger.

“Jenna, watch your tone. Mabel is my curator; we’re discussing work.”

“Does ‘discussing work’ require wrapping your hands around hers to teach wood carving?” Jenna pulled out a chair and sat down, staring coldly at Mabel. “Anyone walking in would think you two were in the middle of a cheesy rom-com.”

Mabel sprang to her feet, smoothing her coat, and looked up at Thomas with wounded eyes.

“Tom, who is this…?”

“Holly’s friend, Jenna.” Thomas stood and stepped in front of Mabel, shielding her from Jenna’s glare. “Jenna, Mabel’s our guest—lay off the sarcasm.”

“Sarcastic?” Jenna scoffed, pointing directly at Mabel. “A guest should know how to behave! Marching into another woman’s house on the weekend and ordering the hostess around to fetch water—who do you think you are, the lady of the house?”

“I never meant to—” Mabel’s eyes instantly welled up, her voice cracking with sobs.

“Holly, I only asked for a small favor earlier. If I upset you, I’m truly sorry.” She turned toward me and pressed a hand to her chest in a dramatic apology. “I apologize for being thoughtless.”

Her delicate, tearful act made it look as though Jenna and I were ganging up to bully her.

Predictably, Thomas’s expression turned icy with rage. He strode across the room to stand inches from me, his gaze sharp and furious.

“Holly, is this the kind of friend you keep? Throwing tantrums in our own house and humiliating our guest?”

I held his stare unflinchingly.

“Did Jenna say anything that wasn’t true?”

“You—” Thomas choked on his words. “You’re utterly unreasonable!”

He spun around and grabbed Mabel by the arm. “Mabel, let’s leave. We’ll talk at the gallery; this place is unbearable right now.”

Mabel pretended to resist his pull. “But Tom, I’ve upset Holly—I need to clear this up—”

“There’s nothing to clarify with them. Come on!”

Without another word, he dragged her toward the entryway, forgetting his jacket entirely, and slammed the front door hard enough to rattle the wall calendar hanging nearby.

Jenna collapsed back into her chair at the table, breathing heavily with rage.

“Selfish creep! Fake little homewrecker! I’m so pissed!” She ripped open the fried chicken packaging. “Let’s eat this ourselves—don’t waste an appetite on a piece of garbage like him.”

I sat across from her and picked up fork.

“You shouldn’t have lost your temper like that.”

“How could I not? Did you see that manipulative act she put on?” Jenna took a huge bite of meat. “And you—how could you just stand there and watch them disgust you right in front of your face?”

“I already filed for divorce.”

Jenna froze mid-chew, setting down her chopsticks to stare at me.

“So you weren’t just blowing off steam the other day?”

“No.” I took a mouthful of plain rice and swallowed it slowly. “Next Wednesday is our tenth anniversary.”

“My mom left me a wooden hair clip before she passed; it snapped clean in half last winter. He promised he’d repair it by hand and carve a new floral top for it, in time for our tenth anniversary.”

Jenna looked confused. “What does that have to do with divorcing him?”

I stood and walked over to the carving bench where Thomas had been sitting. The drawer was unlocked.

I pulled it open and lifted out an elegant velvet storage box, flipping the lid open. Inside rested a brand-new carved base: For Mabel—may peace follow you every year.

“He stayed up three nights straight carving this for her. When I asked about fixing my hair clip, he told me he was swamped with exhibition prep and didn’t have spare time, telling me to wait longer.”

I slid the velvet box across the table toward Jenna.

“He can spend endless hours crafting custom art for another woman, yet he won’t spare a minute to fix the broken keepsake that mattered to me.”

Jenna stared at the carved base and swore under her breath.

“Where’s the broken hair clip?”

I nodded toward the far edge of the carving bench, stacked among piles of discarded wood scraps.

The two snapped halves of my hair clip lay buried under dust and waste timber—exactly where he’d told me to leave it, promising he’d repair it when he had free time.

“He threw it away like trash.”

Jenna’s eyes filled with tears. She crossed the room and gently picked up the two broken pieces, wiping dust off them with a paper napkin.

“Holly…”

“I’m fine.” I returned the velvet box to the bench drawer. “I’m just waiting until next Wednesday.”

“Waiting for what?”

“Waiting for him to break his final promise to me.”

After ten years together, I needed a definitive moment to let go completely—not to beg him to come back, but to walk away clean, without lingering regret or wondering what could have been.