“I’m ending this marriage. Effective now.”
My declaration floated through the stillness between me and the attorney on the other end of the line — a stillness that, oddly enough, weighed heavier than the quarter-century I’d spent suffocating in that household.
He exhaled slowly. “Mrs. Villaruel… are you completely certain? A twenty-five-year union isn’t something people just… walk out of.”
My eyelids lowered, and memories surged like poison. Adrian’s hand yanking a necklace from my throat, warm blood sliding down my skin. Sabrina’s honey-sweet voice hiding venom. Julian’s cold gaze. The cheerful amusement-park photo — my family smiling without me — and that taunting travel itinerary promising cherry blossoms I was never meant to witness.
“Yes,” I replied, voice steady as steel. “Prepare the documents. Email them. I’ll handle getting his signature.”
His tone softened. “Understood. I’ll set everything up immediately.”
When the call ended, the house’s silence didn’t comfort — it pressed, curled, whispered like every humiliation I ever swallowed was crowding the walls. I walked into the living room and toward the worn cabinet where I kept the relics of a life I tried too hard to preserve — albums, wilted wedding pictures, brittle birthday cards, anniversary messages that once felt holy.
I gathered every fragile memory and carried them to the backyard.
Cold wind brushed my cheeks as I knelt before a metal bin. One picture at a time, I fed the fire — our wedding photo, Sabrina’s face peeking from the edge even then; baby Julian cradled in my arms during a time he still loved me; our early holidays; the letter promising someday we’d stroll beneath cherry blossoms in Kyoto.
My hands trembled, but I never paused. Flames crackled, chewing through glossy lies and vows never meant for me.
Back then, I believed I’d married someone who would shelter me from loneliness. Sabrina had flown away to chase her ambitions, leaving Adrian wounded and abandoned. I stepped in — the quiet sibling always living in her shadow — and when he offered marriage, I foolishly thought I’d been chosen.
And for a decade, I convinced myself happiness was real — until Sabrina returned, trailing perfume and betrayal. Their secret smiles, shared whispers, “business trips” they insisted required them both. The way conversations died when I entered.
And worse — Julian turning, as though I were the stain ruining their perfect world.
A tear slid off my chin into the flames. “No more,” I breathed, barely audible.
I was still staring into the dying fire when the front door burst open — laughter, rustling bags, Sabrina’s sugary giggle, Julian grumbling about traffic, Adrian’s arrogant voice boasting about something meaningless.
I entered the house with the heat of burning memories still clinging to my skin.
Adrian’s brows shot up when he saw the smoke drifting from the backyard. “What did you set on fire?”
“Just the past,” I said plainly.
Sabrina blinked with feigned concern, placing her shopping bags down. “Your memories? Samantha, sweetheart, are you okay? You look tired. Here.” She pulled out a container and held it out delicately. “I brought you something to eat.”
Inside — stale rice, scraps of bone, bits of leftover meat barely clinging to cartilage. Food unfit for a stray cat, let alone a wife.
I forced a thin smile. “That’s alright. I’m okay.”
Julian scoffed, irritation sharp. “Mom, seriously? Aunt Sabrina gave you food out of kindness. You could at least appreciate it.”
I curled my fingers around the container. “Thank you.”
Adrian chuckled cruelly. “Good. That’s all you’re good for — taking leftovers.”
Then his gaze caught the opened envelope on the table. He stiffened. “Did you touch this?”
I swallowed hard. “It had my name. I thought—”
He snatched the papers from my grasp. “You don’t think. This is for our trip. Our Japan trip.”
My voice slipped out before I could stop it — naïve, hopeful, foolish. “Could I… come?”
Sabrina’s laugh rang sharp and tinkling. “Oh, silly me — I forgot to switch the name. It was my booking. You could join if you want… but you’d have to pay for your flight and accommodations, of course. It’s mostly for work.”
Adrian barked a laugh. “As if she has money. She’s been a useless lump here forever.”
Julian smirked. “Just stay behind, Mom. Someone has to watch the house. You wouldn't know what to do on a business trip anyway.”
Sabrina tilted her head, pity shining like polished glass. “Don’t worry. We’ll bring you something cute from Japan.”
I didn’t argue. I didn’t break. I simply clutched the cold food container, knuckles white.
“It’s fine,” I whispered. “I’ll start packing your things.”
I turned away before the mask on my face could crack.
Upstairs, I reached for my phone — for the number that never changed, never disappeared, even when I disappeared from myself.
He answered on the second ring.
“Dad…” My voice shook this time. “It’s me.”
“Samantha? What’s wrong?”
“I’m… done. With Adrian. With this house. With all of it.” My breath hitched. “I want to come home. Will you come get me?”
There was the soft sound of a breath — full of ache, but also relief.
“Of course,” he said, voice firm with love. “Come home, sweetheart. We’ll leave this place behind. Wherever you want to go — we go.”
A tear trailed down, warmer than before — not from pain, but release. “I still want to see cherry blossoms, Dad. I always did. Please… pick me up.”
