Chapter 4

By sunrise, I had found a furnished apartment and paid the deposit. The confirmation email arrived while Nolan was still asleep across the hall. Nolan still thought we were going to talk everything out. Three days passed. For three days, Nolan and I barely spoke. He slept in the master bedroom. I stayed in the guest room. On Thursday morning, I walked into the kitchen to get coffee. Nolan was standing by the island, zipping up his black duffel bag. He was packing. I stopped in the doorway. The coffee burned my palm through the mug, but I didn't set it down. I looked at the bag, and then at my husband. "After everything that happened," I said, my voice eerily calm. "Are you still going with her?" Nolan let out a long sigh, dropping his hands to his sides. "Talia, we booked this trip months ago," he said, using his most reasonable, patient voice. "She's shooting the playoff games. She needs help with her equipment." "She's a professional photographer," I said. "She has an assistant." "I promised her I would be there," Nolan insisted, his jaw tightening. "I can't punish Maren because you suddenly have a problem with our friendship." Suddenly. As if she had not kissed him in front of an arena. As if she had not entered my house after midnight. As if her clothes had not been waiting inside my guest room closet. I looked at the man I had loved for seven years. I didn't yell. I didn't cry. I just asked him one final question. "And if I ask you to stay?" Nolan froze with one hand on the duffel strap. He looked at me. Really looked at me. His fingers loosened on the strap, and for one second I thought he might put the bag down. But then, he picked up his duffel bag and threw the strap over his shoulder. "I'll be back Sunday," he said. I didn't argue. I didn't block the door. I simply nodded. "Okay." Nolan let out a breath of relief. His shoulders relaxed, and his hand tightened around the duffel again. He thought my answer meant I had surrendered. He did not know that the furnished apartment near my studio was already waiting for me. The lease confirmation sat inside my work bag. A moving company was scheduled for ten that morning. He smiled and walked over to kiss my forehead. I turned my face away. His lips brushed my hair, and for the first time, I did not apologize for avoiding him. He didn't seem to notice. He mistook my silence for submission. He actually thought I was compromising. "We'll talk about everything when I get back, okay?" he said, already looking toward the door. "Just... make something nice for dinner on Sunday. We can open that good bottle of wine." "Sure," I said. A car horn sounded from the driveway. We both looked out the kitchen window. Maren's silver SUV was idling outside our house. Nolan adjusted his bag. "Don't spend the whole weekend worrying. Nothing is going to happen. Love you." He walked out the door. He didn't look back. I stood by the window and watched him climb into the passenger seat of Maren's car. I watched her smile at him. When the SUV turned the corner, I realized I was still holding the untouched coffee. My fingers were locked around the ceramic mug. At ten, the moving truck arrived. My sister Jules came with it. She carried packing tape, black markers, and coffee I could not drink. We took my clothes, personal files, books, computers, and work equipment. The movers carried out the desk, blue chair, and narrow bookcase I had owned before the marriage. I left every shared purchase behind. The house changed one empty space at a time. Bare hangers struck each other inside the closet. Pale rectangles appeared beneath the furniture. My office echoed after the final box left. In the kitchen, I removed my wedding ring from my pocket. I placed it in the drawer beside my access card. The metal ring rolled once and stopped against the plastic card. I did not leave a note. Nolan had already received my answer. He had mistaken it for permission. By four, I was inside the short-term apartment near my studio. My boxes covered the floor. Jules placed my coffee maker on the counter while I connected my work computer. My phone lit up at six. Nolan had sent the message from the airport. We'll be home Sunday. Don't forget dinner. We. He had written the word without noticing it. My thumb stayed over the message for a long second. Then I held the power button until the screen went dark. Nolan left believing I had finally accepted his friendship with Maren. By the time his plane took off, I had already moved out. He just didn't know it yet.