My Six-Year-Old Told Me About His Sister Before My Husband Did Chapter 04

My Six-Year-Old Told Me About His Sister Before My Husband Did Chapter 04

When I woke up, my new account had been suspended too.

Either Coralie’s followers had mass-reported it, or Thayer had made a call.

Either way, he was making one thing clear.

Coralie was untouchable.

Even a single comment was too much.

A sour ache spread through my chest. I pulled out my suitcase and started packing.

When Thayer bought the riverfront penthouse, he had smiled like a boy.

“Izzy, we finally have a bigger place. Now you’ll have room for every little thing you collect.”

The day he placed the keys in my hand, I had been so happy.

Our old walk-up had been small and damp. No matter how carefully I kept my things, something was always warping, rusting, cracking.

I sorted through the boxes now.

Love letters Thayer had written.

Photos from our trips.

Dried flowers from old birthdays.

All those relics from when we were in love.

None of them seemed worth keeping anymore.

I pulled the trash can over and threw them in one by one.

When I opened my phone, our last chat was still stuck on the message I had sent that morning.

[Are you coming home? I want to talk.]

Thayer had not replied.

It was the first silence like this in our ten years together.

Because of Coralie.

I tapped the divorce settlement on my desk, then looked at the plane ticket.

Thayer was waiting for me to cave first.

But I was out of time.

Late that night, his call came through.

“Tavish is sick. Can you come over? Twyla’s here too, and I can’t handle both of them.”

I shot up from bed.

Tavish had been cruel to me, but he was still the child I had raised from birth.

Saying I wasn’t worried would have been a lie.

I barely remembered grabbing my coat. I stumbled through the cold and knocked on the door like my life depended on it.

Coralie opened it with a smile, looking every inch like the woman of the house.

“Izzy, why didn’t you text first? I would’ve asked Thayer to pick you up. Look at you. You don’t even have shoes on.”

My eyes were bloodshot.

“Where’s Tavish? I’m taking him to the hospital.”

Thayer came out from the back room, frowning.

“Keep your voice down. Twyla’s asleep.”

Tavish followed behind him, his face flushed bright red.

I rushed forward and pulled him into my arms.

“I told you not to take him out. He just got over a cold.” I touched his forehead, and my chest tightened. “You’re burning up. Why didn’t anyone give him medicine? Why isn’t he at the hospital?”

Thayer’s face stiffened under my scolding.

Coralie stepped in instead, all soft concern.

“It’s my fault. I didn’t notice. Thayer spent the whole day with Twyla and was exhausted. Tavish should’ve said something if he felt sick.”

Everything inside me snapped.

I pointed straight at her face.

“Who asked you? You’re his mistress. What gives you the right to blame my son? I’ve been too nice to you for too—”

Coralie’s eyes reddened.

Thayer slapped me before I could finish. My face snapped to the side. He stared at me, anger darkening his eyes.

“Izzy. That was too much.”

Tavish shoved me away and stood in front of Coralie.

“Don’t bully her. It’s my fault.”

My husband of ten years.

The son I nearly died giving birth to.

At that moment, they looked at me like I was the monster.

Something in me went cold and still.

I laughed, and tears fell anyway.

“Tavish,” I said, “are you coming with me? I’ll take you to see a doctor.”

Maybe my voice was too final.

He froze for a second.

Then he shook his head with absolute certainty.

“I don’t need you. I have Coralie.”

I looked at him one last time.

Then I turned and left.

The door slammed hard behind me.

The wind was bitter.

Neither of them came after me.

At the corner, I found a twenty-four-hour store and bought the cheapest pair of sneakers and a coat I could find. Then I hailed a cab to the airport.

At sunrise, the first flight took off.

I wiped my tears and sent Thayer one last message before turning off my phone.

[Let’s get divorced.]