Five years into a marriage that had always had three people in it.
He still gave me one day a year, and spent all the rest with someone else.
I stared at his back for a long moment before I finally spoke.
"Can you break it off with her for a while, just look after our little family for once?"
Every big thing and every small thing in this house, the old woman falling ill, the hospital stays, I handled all of it alone.
He never once asked whether I was doing all right.
He poured every bit of himself into Diana Winfield instead.
After a while he pinched the bridge of his nose, worn out, his voice thick with distaste.
"This house is nothing but the mortgage, the bills, this suffocating weight I can't breathe under. There's nothing left of how it used to be."
"But Diana's different. She's gentle, she's thoughtful, she understands how hard I work out there. Is it wrong to want someone who can give me a little happiness?"
I laughed at it inside, bitterly. Of course they fit so well. Their life had no rice, no oil, no bills to pay.
Fine, then. I'd let him have it.
I had my own road to walk. I wouldn't waste it waiting for a wind that was never coming.
...
He was still standing in the entryway, no sign at all of wanting to stay.
I pressed down the bitterness in my chest and set aside what little pride I had left. "Just do it for me. Come home and let's live like a real family, all right?"
If he'd only say yes, I was willing to wipe the whole slate clean.
But Jude Harding stood half-turned away, his face all irritation.
"Diana and I can't be cut off, it's too late for that. Forcing us apart doesn't do anyone any good."
He pulled the door open, then paused. "And don't paint yourself as the wronged one. You knew the day you married me that I'm not a man who hangs around the kitchen."
The door slammed shut with a dull thud.
I stood there and pulled my mouth into something like a self-mocking smile.
But he was the one who'd forced his way into my world first, who'd taken care of me down to the smallest thing, who'd shouldered everything for me.
So when did this house become the place he strained so hard to escape?
My thoughts broke off at the ping of my phone. A message from Diana Winfield.
In the photo, she sat in the passenger seat, her fingers laced through Jude's.
"Five years, and you still can't hold on to him for even one day."
"But thanks for being so useless. We're driving out to see the ocean."
I sank onto the couch, drained, and turned the phone face-down.
Looking at the date on the calendar, circled again and again, I suddenly laughed out loud.
And somewhere in the laughing, the tears came.
Today was our wedding anniversary. It was also the one day a year he came home.
I'd been up since four, working right through to now, cooking a whole table of the dishes he loved, changing into the dress he'd given me, my heart full of hope.
Hoping only that he might come around, that he might look after our family for once.
But he was gone, off to watch the ocean with Diana Winfield.
The phone rang again. This time it was a video call from my mother.
I sniffed and pressed answer.
Mom leaned close to the screen, scanning the empty rooms. "Jude didn't come home. Off chasing that little fox again?"
I didn't say anything, which was answer enough.
The line went quiet for a few seconds, then she sighed.
"Men are all the same. You've been married into that family for five years now, so don't make a scene. Keep the home steady, and give it enough time, he'll see how good you are eventually."
She paused. "The Lynn girl next door got divorced last year. People are still talking behind her back."
In the corner of the screen, Dad sat on a stool, saying nothing, drawing on his pipe one slow pull after another.
The words that had risen to my lips, that I couldn't keep going, I swallowed them back down.
I hung up, changed out of the dress, and dumped the whole table of food into the trash.
Five years of standing by, small and swallowed, five years of this three-person marriage grinding at me. This was where it ended.
