4: 4
He stared at me, brows knotted tight, lips pressed into a hard line.
The motion light in the entryway had switched on.
That pale, sickly glow fell across his face and showed the war going on behind his eyes.
A few seconds stretched out like centuries.
In the end he looked away and reached for the door handle.
"Sylvie, stop this. She really needs me. Just be good and wait, and we'll talk when I'm back, okay?"
Even as he spoke, his fingers had already flipped the lock on the handle.
The door opened a crack.
Outside it had started to rain again.
Cold wind carried the rain in through the gap.
It hit my face, cold enough to sting.
He swung the door shut.
I put out my hand and caught it in the gap.
A dozen rushed footsteps later, the door of the neighboring building opened.
His figure disappeared.
My phone started buzzing.
It was a message from the photographer.
"Miss Swanson, are we still shooting? If the schedule's changed, I'll go do the wedding shoot first. That gentleman wants to add a set on short notice, says he wants more shots of the honeymoon phase."
I rubbed my aching eyes and wrote back.
"Yes, I'm on my way. Change the couple shots to solo. Don't bother refunding the deposit."
The shoot was at the beach.
The sea wind lifted the hem of my dress and sent it flying, exactly the style I loved most.
The photographer called out between shots.
"Give me a smile, Miss Swanson."
"Careful—"
A cry went up behind me.
A little boy clutching a swim ring was shoved forward by a wave and crashed into my back.
I lost my footing and pitched headfirst into the water.
Outside the ER, the photographer kept apologizing.
"Miss Swanson, I'm so sorry. I should've kept an eye on our surroundings."
I pressed a hand over the wound on my forehead, still oozing blood, and let out a quiet sigh.
"It's fine. Not your fault."
"Sylvia? What are you doing here? What happened to your head? You're hurt? Why didn't you tell me?"
Russ was standing beside me with a stack of test results in his hand.
The photographer's expression froze.
"And this is?"
"Her husband."
"Not someone I know well."
The two answers came at once, and the photographer scratched his head, awkward.
"Right, well, I'll leave the photos with you. Don't worry about the balance, I'll transfer the deposit back when I get home. I've got another job after this so I'll head out. Take care of yourself."
He pushed the photos into my hands and fled the scene like he couldn't get away fast enough.
Russ's brows drew together as he took the photos.
"Was that necessary? You don't know me, but you called me in for a photoshoot?"
I twisted my mouth into something like a smile.
"I used to know you. These days, not so much."
His frown deepened.
"Can't you just talk like a normal person—"
Before he finished, Rosalind Winfield came over with a hand pressed to her stomach.
"Sylvia? I didn't expect to run into you here. Russ has gone to so much trouble taking care of me these past days. I kept meaning to find a chance to come thank you at your place, but my health just won't cooperate..."
I nodded.
"So I see. If you're not well, go out less. Anything you need, just call Russ. He comes the moment you call anyway."
Russ reached out to take my arm, and I turned aside to dodge him.
Rosalind spotted the set of photos and took them straight out of my hands.
"This angle isn't good. Makes you look short."
"Wrong time of day too. The sunlight's too harsh, easy to overexpose."
"Sylvia, this dress isn't right for the beach. I've got some new ones. If you don't mind, next time you can just use mine."
I drew a slow breath.
"No need to trouble yourself, Miss Winfield. I don't have a habit of using other people's castoffs."
Russ's face went cold on the spot.
"Who's all this snide talk for?"
"Rosie has good taste. Helping you pick photos was a kindness."
I turned to look at him.
"Who paid for these photos?"
"You did."
"And who's in them?"
"You. What are you even trying to say?"
"Then I happen to like this style. Any problem with that?"
His face went ashen.
"You're completely impossible! I swear your midlife crisis is coming early!"
Before I could get a word out, Rosalind's eyes had already gone red.
"Please don't fight, it's all my fault, I knew it, I shouldn't have been a burden to anyone, my whole existence is a burden, he's not wrong..."
And with that, she covered her face and ran out.
Russ moved to go after her. I put out my hand and blocked him.
"Let's talk. It'll be quick."
He pointed one hand in the direction Rosalind had gone.
"Can't you see she just ran out? What if something happens to her out there alone?"
"I'm alone too. This whole month, I've been alone."
"She's sick, her health is bad, how can you compare yourself to her?!"
He flung the papers away without looking.
The thick stack of test results flew up into the air, then drifted down all over me.
By the time I'd peeled off the sheet stuck to my forehead with blood, there was no one in front of me.
It was five hours later by the time I'd had the wound treated and came home with the printed divorce agreement.
I finished packing and set the agreement on the coffee table.
Just as I was about to leave, my phone suddenly rang.
I hit answer, and Russ's urgent voice came through.
"Sylvia! Shut up and listen to me first!"
"Rosie was so upset by what you said today that she insisted on jumping into the sea to make it up to you."
"We just pulled her out, she's still unstable. Transfer me that Iceland trip booking right now, I need to take her somewhere to get her mind off it!"
I looked out at the black night beyond the window.
"The booking's already been canceled. You saw it."
"Then place a new one, same as last time will do! I'll wire you the fifty thousand when I'm back, saving her comes first!"
"Russ, you can place the booking yourself, you can plan the itinerary yourself, you can book the flights yourself."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Let's get a divorce."
