“I’m asking you again—please, just file the divorce papers,” I said, forcing my trembling voice to sound firm, even as my heart raced uncontrollably.
From the other end of the line, my lawyer, Mr. Cruz, exhaled softly. “Mrs. Vaughn… are you absolutely sure about this decision? You’ve shared two decades of marriage. Once this is submitted, there’s no reversing it. You’re aware of the prenuptial agreement—after signing, you walk away with nothing. Not even the business your late father built in your name.”
I pressed my hand against my chest, the rain soaking through my blouse until it clung to my skin. The taste of dirt lingered on my lips, the cold burrowing deep into my bones.
“I know,” I whispered. “I’ve already made peace with that. The company—Papa’s legacy—that used to be the only reason I stayed. Even when they forgot I existed, I held on for him, for what he built. But not anymore. I don’t want any of it now.”
A pause stretched between us. Then, Mr. Cruz said quietly, “Alright, Mrs. Vaughn. I’ll have the papers ready. The summons should arrive in five days.”
Five days. Just five more days in this living nightmare.
I slid my phone into my pocket and curled up beneath the narrow overhang of the doghouse porch, hugging my knees to my chest.
The rain intensified, cold drops biting into my skin like thousands of needles. “Victor! Leo! Please, open the door!” I shouted over the storm. Through the window, I saw them—warm, comfortable, laughing together. The chandelier lights flickered across the walls, painting the room golden and alive.
The front door creaked open, and I saw her—Selena. She stepped in, shaking droplets from her hair before wrapping her arms around Victor’s neck. Her lips met his, slow and deliberate, as though I had never existed. Victor kissed her back, smiling.
Her gaze slid toward me through the glass. She saw me—drenched, shivering, pathetic—and her lips curved into a smile. Then she whispered something into Victor’s ear, making him laugh.
Moments later, the porch light went out. Darkness swallowed me whole.
When I woke, I was lying on the cold marble floor inside the house. My hair stuck to my face, my hands and knees pale and trembling. I smelled of mud, rain, and shame.
“Get up, Mom. You’re soaking the floor,” Clara said sharply, tossing a mop toward me. “We still have to prepare for Aunt Selena’s party.”
I looked up at her—my daughter—whose face mirrored mine from long ago, only hardened and distant.
“Don’t scold your mother,” came Selena’s syrupy tone as she entered. She crouched beside me, pretending concern as she dabbed my forehead with a tissue. “She looks exhausted. Maybe she needs to rest.”
Victor scoffed. “Rest? She doesn’t do anything else. That’s her only purpose here.”
Leo leaned against the doorway, arms folded, a cruel smile on his lips. “Careful, Selena. Don’t be too nice. Remember, she ruined your dress? You let it slide. She couldn’t afford to replace it anyway.”
Selena leaned closer, her perfume suffocating. Her voice dropped to a whisper only I could hear. “Did you catch that? They all know what you are now—just the maid. Don’t embarrass yourself by pretending otherwise.”
Then she turned to the others, her voice sweet again. “Let me help you up, Marisol.”
Her hand reached for mine, but I pulled away, shoving her arm aside. She stumbled back, feigning shock.
“Oh! Sorry—I didn’t mean to upset you.” She pressed a hand dramatically to her elbow.
Victor’s fury erupted instantly. “What is wrong with you? Now you’re hurting her? You just can’t stop causing trouble, can you?”
Tiny footsteps echoed on the floor. Emmy appeared, her small face scrunched with anger. “You’re mean, Grandma! You’re fighting with Aunt Selena! I hate you!” She spat at my feet before running off, laughing.
Leo sighed loudly. “Come on, let’s go. She’s not worth it. She never was.”
They walked away one by one—Victor’s arm resting around Selena’s shoulders like she was royalty. Clara followed them, her eyes averted.
I bent down, wiping the spit from the tiles with my sleeve, then dragged myself back to what used to be my room.
Inside, I opened old boxes: faded photographs, pressed flowers, ticket stubs from concerts we once loved, cards filled with words I had once believed. There was our wedding photo—edges yellowing, smiles frozen in a lie. Leo and I in our school uniforms, grinning like children who thought forever was easy.
I threw them all into the fireplace. The flames devoured them quickly, the air thick with the sharp, bittersweet scent of burning paper.
By morning, the house was alive again—music, laughter, glittering lights. Selena’s birthday. Her laughter echoed through every hall, ringing like victory bells. No one looked at me as I moved through the crowd, carrying trays, pouring drinks, cleaning spills like the servant they saw me as.
“Is that her? Victor’s wife?” a guest whispered behind me. “I thought she was part of the staff.”
Their laughter trailed after me as I forced myself to keep working. My feet ached, my arms throbbed—but I reminded myself, just five more days.
I caught my reflection in the window: tangled hair, tired eyes, a ghost in an apron.
Selena stood under the fairy lights, radiant in that red dress, clinking her glass against Victor’s before kissing him deeply. I turned away, continuing to serve their guests, their snickers slipping off me like rain on glass.
Five more days. Just five more days, I repeated silently.
And then I’d be gone—forever. They would never see me again.
