8: Leaving The Marriage.
(Cassie’s POV)
In the following days. The messages kept coming and my phone buzzed incessantly. I didn’t bother replying to her texts.
I never replied.
That day, she sent screenshots of a “New. Parents Program” admission slip, her name written neatly next to Max’s.
Accompanying it was a string of messages about how happy he was to be involved, how much he was looking forward to their future together. In another message was a list of gifts he had bought for her and their baby things he had once claimed we couldn’t afford when I brought up starting a family.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. Instead, I called the housekeeper and calmly instructed her to pack up all the gifts Max had ever given me. The expensive.
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necklaces, the designer bags, the perfume bottles. “Send them to charity,” I said simply.
She looked at me, startled, but nodded and began gathering the items. I watched her leave with the boxes and felt… lighter. Like I had severed a something that had been binding me to him.
The next day, Violet sent photos of Max. He was in her kitchen, sleeves rolled up, cooking with a smile I hadn’t seen in years. There were more photos of him. holding her from behind, his hand resting protectively on her stomach, his lips. pressed against her temple. My chest. tightened, but I refused to cry. Not again.
That evening, I went to the closet and pulled out every photo album we had ever created together. Every picture of us, every ticket stub, every little note he had
scribbled to me during our years together. I carried them to the fireplace, striking a match and watching as the flames
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consumed them.
The love letters I had written to him, pages upon pages of my heart poured onto paper I fed them to the fire too.
I went to the studio I had once cherished, where I had spent countless hours painting him his smile, his eyes, the way he looked. at me when we first fell in love. I grabbed every canvas, every sketch, every half- finished piece that bore his image and dragged them outside.
One by one, I shredded them, tearing through the fabric. It wasn‘ t just the paintings, the songs I had written for him too. The beautiful melody lines I had written all this time when I thought about him, the lyrics, I ripped them apart until nothing was left but scraps.
By the time I finished, my hands were shaking, and I was covered in paint and charcoal. But for the first time in days, I
felt… free.
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8 Leaving The Marriage.
This was my way of letting go. Not just of Max, but of the part of me that had clung to him. Now, all I could think of doing was to pick up the pieces of myself he had left behind and start anew.
I had already decided, I knew what I was going to do.
The next day, Violet’s messages arrived early. The sight made my stomach churn. Violet sent her the plane tickets of Max and her, saying that she felt sick so Max was taking her to the best gynecologist. That day, Max came hurriedly to pack his bags as he had ‘urgent business.”
I stood in the doorway of our bedroom, watching Max hurriedly pack his suitcase, he barely glanced at me.
“Is this for work?” I asked quietly, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions churning inside me.
He didn’t pause, didn’t even look up.
“It’s urgent,” he said curtly. “Top
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secret.”
“Top secret,” I repeated, more to myself than to him. My lips twitched in a humorless smile. “And Violet?”
He finally stopped, turning to face me. His expression was blank, his tone clipped.
“She s coming. You wouldn’t understand, Cassie. It’s complicated.”
I nodded slowly, letting his words hang in the air between us. There it was–his truth, spoken so plainly that it almost felt unreal.
“Of course,” I said softly. “Let me help you.”
Max blinked, as though surprised by my reaction, but he didn’t argue. I stepped forward, pulling his shirts from the wardrobe and folding them neatly. I placed his toiletries in the side pocket of the suitcase, careful to zip it tightly. I even slipped a tie into the bag, knowing he‘ d probably forget to pack one himself.
When everything was ready, he gave me a
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distracted nod. “Thanks,” he muttered, grabbing the suitcase and heading toward the door.
“Safe travels,” I said quietly, standing in the doorway as he walked out. He didn’t reply, didn’t even look back.
The door clicked shut, and for a moment, I stood there, staring at the empty space he had left behind. Then, with trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and looked at them images Violet had sent me. Plane tickets–hers and Max‘ s. First class, departing tonight.
My gaze lingered on the plane tickets Two days from now. Two days, and they’d be back, smug and satisfied, while I stayed here like an outcast.
But I wouldn’t be here.
I scoffed, My decision was made. In two days, when they returned, I would already be gone!
***Two days later***
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The airport buzzed with the muffled
chatter of travelers and the sound of
announcements blending into the background noise. I sat by the gate waiting for my flight. Suddenly my phone vibrated in my hand.
It was Max.
“Cassie, where are all the gifts I gave you? They’re missing.”
I stared at his message for a moment, a wry smile tugging at my lips before I typed my reply.
“I gave them all to charity,” I wrote simply.
There was a pause before his next message. came through.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ve brought more gifts for you. You‘ I love them.”
I chuckled softly, Of course, he thought more gifts could keep me assured.
As I boarded the plane, I checked my phone again. I glanced at the screen, where
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a live video of Max in his office appeared. He was holding Violet, his arms wrapped. around her in what could only be described as an intimate embrace. She laughed, her head tilted back, while he leaned in close, whispering something I couldn‘ thear.
I tapped the screen, connecting the call. His voice came through, smooth and practiced, the way it always was when he tried to placate me.
I called Max and when the call connected I informed him I got a gift for him.
There was a pause on his end, “You for a gift for me?”
I smiled, though he couldn’t see it.
“Yes,” I said softly. “Don’t forget to open yours today.” I replied before and before he could respond, I hung up.
The announcement came over the
speakers,
final boarding.” A female
automated voice sounded.
I was on a call with my assistant, a quiet
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and efficient young man who had worked with me for a long time.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked hesitantly, his voice low as he heard my request. “Erasing all your information, your accounts… everything?”
“Yes,” I said, my tone blank.
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