Just as I hung the phone up, Samuel walked through the door, looking drained. His eyes were heavy, and his shoulders slumped. I knew he had been working long hours, but I also knew that he was only acting because a few hours ago, he was laughing with Samantha.
I wanted to call his bluff, but thinking that it would be exhausting to argue with him, I decided not to say anything. I watched him drop his bag on the floor and stretch. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
'I'm tired. Long day. You know how it is," he told me, running a hand through his hair.
I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. I wanted to ask him about his long day with Samantha, but I held back. What good would it do? So, I turned away, pretending to clean up the kitchen, but the scars on my arms and neck that hadn't healed fast enough yet caught his attention as they were still red and angry, remnants of the attack.
"What happened to you? Why do you have those?" he asked, concern creeping into his voice.
"Just a little mishap on my way home. No big deal," I said lightly.
He frowned. "You called me a few times. Was that the reason why?"
"Yeah, but like I said, it wasn't a big deal," I answered with a shrug and continued to clean.
Samuel had always thought of himself as perceptive, so he somehow sensed that something about me felt off today. He watched my every move, absentmindedly letting his fingers tap on his phone.
He knew that even though I answered his question, my voice was flat and devoid of the warmth he expected. It was like talking to a wall, instead of someone who was completely enamored by him. He leaned forward, trying to catch my gaze, but I completely ignored him.
“What’s your problem?” He finally asked, his voice low but firm.
"I don't have one." I shrugged again—a gesture that felt like a dismissal.
"Oh, really? Because it looks to me that you're upset about something," he said, scowling for good measure.
"If that's what you want to believe, then that's what you want to believe," I told him, staring at him directly in the eye.
Just as he was ready to push harder, his phone vibrated on the table. He glanced at it and immediately looked relieved by the distraction.
"I’ll take this."
Samuel hurriedly walked toward our home office and locked himself in as he took the call. Emotionally drained and mentally exhausted, I trudged toward the bedroom with heavy footsteps. The weight of the day pressed down on me like a thick fog.
Each step felt like a reminder of my chaotic life, but as I passed the office, I heard Samuel's voice. It was sweet and soft, almost like a lullaby. My heart sank because it didn’t take long for me to guess who was on the other end. Samantha.
She was everything I wasn’t. Charming, fun, and apparently, the center of Samuel's attention as of the moment. I felt a surge of anger mixed with sadness. Hearing him talk to her, the laughter in his voice shattered my resolve. I was done.
I was ready to escape. Home felt like a place of safety, a refuge from the mess my life had become. I didn’t care how upset Samuel would be. I needed to prioritize myself for a change, so I pulled out my phone for the final time and texted my father. 'I’m coming home sooner than we talked about.' It was a simple message, but it held a weight of its own.
