"The cat's been crying for a while now. It's probably hungry."
"Gretchen says it likes steamed sea bass. Make it some fish."
After all these years, the tone he used with me had grown as casual as ordering around the help.
He didn't wait for me to answer. He walked into the study and shut the door.
I packed my luggage and set it aside. The company had given me three days to hand off my work.
In three days, I'd be leaving more than this city. I'd be leaving Michael too, the man who'd been at my side for twelve years.
Passing the study, I heard Michael on a video call with Gretchen.
Her laughter was light and merry.
His voice was certain, even a little smug.
"Sandra's stuck by me for twelve years, gone along with everything for twelve years. Every World Cup, you're the one who watches it with me."
"She won't make a scene, so relax and enjoy the game with me."
I went still. My heart felt as if it had frozen solid.
From eighteen to thirty, for those twelve years he was all I had.
To every one of his friends, I was the understanding, considerate girlfriend.
Even when Gretchen caused a fight between us, I never let an outsider know.
I gave him every bit of face he could ask for.
And that had become his leverage to "push me around."
A cold smile touched my lips.
Michael, I will never bend to you again.
Packing my things, I realized one of the sleep pillows my grandmother gave me was missing.
My job was stressful, and I'd never slept well.
So my grandmother went to an old herbalist out of town and had two sleep pillows made for me, to switch between.
For those two pillows, my grandmother got into a car accident and died.
From that day on, those two pillows were the most precious things she'd left me.
Michael finished his call and was heading out.
I called after him.
"Did you see the other sleep pillow my grandmother gave me?"
He thought for a moment.
"Check the guest bedroom next door, Gretchen's room. See if it's there."
"If it's not, then it's at Gretchen's place."
We'd lived in this apartment for seven years.
At first we rented it; later we bought it from the landlord.
I thought a one-bedroom was plenty for just the two of us.
He insisted on a two-bedroom, said a friend might stay over now and then.
In all these years, he never once let a friend crash here, not even when a buddy got dumped and drank himself stupid.
He didn't put that friend in the guest room either. He insisted on a hotel.
The only person who ever stayed in that guest room was Gretchen.
Every time, it was because she was drunk.
I'd tell Michael to drive her home, or get her a room somewhere.
Every time, he'd say it wasn't safe for a drunk girl to stay somewhere on her own.
He knew it bothered me, knew I'd be jealous.
But he let Gretchen stay the night here, again and again.
Sometimes without even telling me first.
Later, because it bothered me so much, he installed cameras in the apartment.
He dressed it up as proof: with cameras watching, he and Gretchen were innocent.
It wasn't just that there was a bedroom in this apartment kept ready for Gretchen.
Her personal things kept turning up too. Lipstick, socks, jewelry, even underwear.
In the past, I'd have screamed and fought with him at home over things like this.
Now I just calmly walked over to the guest bedroom. The sleep pillow wasn't there.
No yelling, no scene. I just got in my car and drove to Gretchen's place.
Gretchen stared at me, surprised.
"Oh, Sandra, what brings you here? This is your first time at my place, isn't it?"
She smiled and waved me inside.
"I'm here for the sleep pillow."
She gave a little smile and turned to pour me some water.
In truth, she was sending a message.
If I had to guess, she was tattling to Michael.
"Don't bother with the water. I'll grab my things and go."
She came back, rubbing the back of her head, looking like she couldn't quite remember where she'd put it.
