I broke down completely. Like a man possessed, I snatched up the fruit knife from the bedside table, my voice raw and shredded.
"Ida, are you really choosing him? If you walk out that door, we're done. For good."
Ida's face twisted, and she looked at me the way someone looks at a lunatic.
"Roland, stop this. I have a family doctor at home, and the doctors already said everything's fine."
"Humphrey just got back to the country. He doesn't have anyone here, and his health has always been fragile. I have to go. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
She turned and left without looking back. All she gave me was the rigid line of her retreating shoulders.
The moment the hospital room door clicked shut, the knife slipped from my hand.
The blade caught my wrist on the way down, carving the ugly scar I still carried.
The buzz of my phone dragged me back from that distant memory.
It was a voice message from Ida. She sounded drunk.
"Roland, stop being mad at me. Give me another baby, okay?"
A baby?
My thumb found the scar on my wrist without thinking. I'd gone numb to the pain a long time ago.
But hearing her mention a child again sent a fresh wave of agony through my chest, wave after wave, until I felt like I was drowning.
It took a long time before I could steady myself. I lifted my hand and wiped away the last tear.
Then, silently, I blocked both Ida and Humphrey.
I dialed an overseas number.
"Dad. Three days from now. Meet me at the airport."
Over the next few days, Ida didn't come home.
I didn't ask her when she'd be back. I just started packing.
But seven years of marriage leaves marks that run deep. Almost everything I touched had her shadow on it.
The white scarf she'd given me on our first date.
I'd worn it for years and could never bring myself to throw it away, because she'd spent months knitting it by hand.
There were so many other firsts she'd given me, gifts she'd poured her heart into, staying up until her eyes were red and raw to make with her own hands.
I'd kept every single one locked away in the safe. I couldn't let them go.
Later, as Ida's career took off, her gifts grew more expensive.
I accepted each one with the same joy, because they were proof that Ida had once loved me deeply.
But then came the second year after we moved into the mansion. That was when Humphrey appeared.
The vanity began filling up with luxury watches and bracelets from designer brands.
The closet started overflowing with the latest haute couture from every season.
Some of these pieces were worth hundreds of thousands. Some were worth millions. But they were no longer given out of love.
They were just apologies. Compensation. Hush money for the countless nights I'd spent waiting alone while she was with someone else.
I looked at all of it and walked past without touching a thing.
I packed only what was truly mine.
The day I finished, Ida happened to come home.
She saw the suitcase in my hand and frowned.
"Where are you going this time?"
She still thought I was just throwing a tantrum.
After all, the old me had threatened to leave more than once.
I didn't correct her. I just lowered my gaze. "Just need to clear my head."
Ida didn't notice anything different about me. Instead, she pulled me into her arms.
"Roland, I've been waiting for you to reach out these past few days."
Waiting for me to reach out?
But I remembered clearly. Every time I'd texted her before, asking her to come home, all I ever got back was an impatient brush-off.
She cupped my face in both hands and stared at me, her eyes dead serious.
"All you had to do was say the word, and I would've come straight home. But you didn't."
