I sat on the couch and didn't move.
An hour ago, Gwyneth had updated her social media feed.
"He said I worked so hard being the bride today, so he wanted to spoil me."
The photo with it was the two of them together.
Oscar was flashing a peace sign, his hands wrapped in gloves slick with red chili oil, and the bowl in front of Gwyneth was piled high with crawfish, all peeled and ready.
But in eight years, he had never once peeled crawfish for me.
He'd said, "Lucille, these are a pianist's hands. They're not for menial work."
Listening to the water running in the bathroom, I picked up my phone and sent a message to my boss.
"Mr. Gilbert, I've thought it over about the overseas posting to France. I'll take it."
I shut off the screen.
I got up, walked to the dining table, and lifted the lid off the bowl of porridge.
A few cabbage leaves floated in the golden broth. Every last piece of fresh shrimp and abalone was gone.
I let out a small, bitter laugh.
What was I still hoping for?
Gwyneth watched her figure. Whenever she had porridge, she only ate the seafood out of it.
This bowl was obviously her leftovers.
Oscar came out of his shower, saw the porridge on the table untouched, and immediately shouted toward me in the bedroom.
"Lucille, what are you sulking about now?"
I ignored him and packed my clothes and belongings into the suitcase, one piece at a time.
A loud slam.
He stormed into the study and shut the door.
Every time we fought, he moved into the study and froze me out.
Waiting for me to back down and come make peace.
But this time, once I finished packing, I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes.
This love, where the feeling only ran one way, I didn't want it anymore.
Early the next morning, I woke to the noise coming from the living room.
I got dressed and stepped out of the bedroom.
Gwyneth was holding out the wedding gown, freshly dry-cleaned.
"Lucille, I already took the gown to the shop and had it cleaned, and I fixed the torn lace too."
I unzipped the garment bag.
The whole gown had been altered top to bottom. There was nothing left of what it used to be.
Seeing my face fall, she explained sweetly.
"The cut of this gown was so dated, but lucky for you, your best friend's a designer. I redid it for you in the trendiest style there is right now."
"Try it on and see if it fits. Anything that's off, I'll fix it again."
I was shaking with rage. My palm cut an arc through the air.
"Gwyneth! You did this on purpose!"
"You knew exactly what this gown meant to me, and you destroyed it!"
I put everything I had into that slap.
Gwyneth's head snapped to the side.
"Lucille! Are you out of your mind?"
Oscar rushed over and rammed me aside with his shoulder.
"Gwyneth stayed up all night fixing your gown. Forget being grateful, how could you raise a hand to her?"
"Look at yourself in the mirror. You're acting like a shrew!"
Once Gwyneth got her bearings, she trembled and cried.
"Oscar, my face hurts so much. Is it scarred…"
"I'm taking you to the hospital."
Oscar scooped her up in his arms, grabbed the car keys, and went out the door.
I pulled down my collar.
Looking at my reddened shoulder, I suddenly felt at peace.
"Oscar, let's break up."
His steps faltered. He didn't turn around, and his back disappeared through the doorway.
I knew Oscar heard it.
Whether he took it seriously, or thought I was just throwing a tantrum, none of that mattered anymore.
Falling in love takes two people agreeing.
But breaking up, one is enough.
After I packed up everything in the house I couldn't take and dumped it in the trash, I rolled my suitcase to the door and took one last look at the home where I'd lived for five years.
