I turned and walked out.
Just before the door slammed shut behind me, I caught Lucretia's voice, bright with excitement.
“Wilfred, why don't we bet on how long it takes her to forgive you this time?”
He didn't even bother to look up. “You'd lose again.”
I took a long breath, didn't look back, and dropped his jacket into a trash can on my way out.
On the drive home, my mother called.
Her voice on the other end was careful, almost fragile.
“Nomi, are you……how have you been? You and Wilfred aren't fighting, are you?”
I forced a smile into my voice. “Everything's fine on my end. You and Dad just take care of yourselves. Don't worry about me.”
“Nomi, you……you stay on good terms with Wilfred. Don't fight with him.”
She paused. When she spoke again, her voice sounded clogged, like something was pressing against her throat.
“Last night……they came again. Your father got so upset he had to be admitted.”
Muffled sobs bled through the phone.
“The surgery……we're still short on the money.”
My chest seized. I steadied my voice to calm her first. “I have money. I'll transfer it right now.”
After hanging up, I opened Wilfred's contact without thinking.
The last messages were still there. Our engagement photo shoot. All that sweetness.
I stared at the screen, scrolled up and back down, then took a deep breath and dragged him into the blocked list.
I tossed my phone back in my bag and drove as fast as I could toward home.
At the very back of the closet sat a jewelry box I'd never been willing to touch.
A gold bracelet, a gold necklace, a gold ring. Piece by piece, saved a little each month from my paycheck over three years.
I hadn't wanted to embarrass Wilfred. I'd wanted to walk into the marriage looking like I belonged.
None of that mattered now.
I got back to the apartment and reached for the door lock.
The keypad beeped: “Incorrect passcode.” I froze.
I hadn't entered it wrong.
Then the door shuddered.
Someone had pressed up against it from inside. A second later, voices came through. A man and a woman, low and intimate.
“Gentle.”
“That's too gentle. Press harder.”
“Don't rush.”
The door rattled harder, a woman's stifled gasps layered over a man's heavy breathing.
Something cracked wide open in my chest.
I pounded the door like a woman losing her mind. “Wilfred! Open this door!”
“This is my home! What are you doing in there?!”
Silence. One beat.
Then Wilfred's voice, dripping with irritation：“What are you screaming about? Lucretia's back is sore. I'm giving her a massage.”
“When I'm done, I'll let you in.”
Right on cue, Lucretia let out a long, theatrical moan. “Naomi, ahh~ Wilfred's hands are amazing.”
Fury tore through me—my palms shook until they went numb.
“Wilfred! Open this door right now!”
The only answer was the door shaking even harder.
I clenched my fists and shouted at the door：“I'm counting to three. If you don't open up, I'm calling the building manager to break it down.”
“Three. Two. One.” I turned to leave.
The door drifted open. Wilfred leaned against the frame, his expression sated and lazy.
Lucretia peeked out from behind him, smoothing down her rumpled skirt.
“Naomi, you couldn't even wait that long? What are you going to do after you're married?”
“I mean, I am going to be coming over to play with Wilfred all the time.”
Wilfred stroked her hair with an indulgent smile.
“Why go to all that trouble? Just move in.”
I sucked in a breath, swallowed the nausea, and started straight for the bedroom to get the jewelry box.
Something caught my foot and I went down hard, hitting the floor.
I looked down. It was my diary. The one I'd kept since I was a little girl.
The cover was soaked through. The pages were smeared with some unidentifiable liquid, ink bleeding into shapeless stains, the whole thing ruined and scattered across the floor.
