Amira walked past the mountain of luggage. Her wet shoes squelched on the marble.
She walked into the master bedroom.
Delisa was sitting at the vanity-Amira's vanity. She was wearing one of Ethan's shirts. She was applying night cream, looking at herself in the mirror.
"Oh," Delisa said, spotting Amira in the reflection. "You made it back."
Ethan emerged from the bathroom, brushing his teeth. He looked at Amira, then at her wet clothes, and shrugged.
"Delisa is staying. Indefinitely," Ethan announced around the toothbrush.
"PR reasons," he added after spitting. "The paparazzi thing. We need to present a united front. She can't be alone."
"Where do I sleep?" Amira asked. Her voice was hollow, a ghost of a sound.
"The guest room is full of her clothes," Ethan said. "The couch? Or the floor."
Delisa laughed softly. "You're used to the floor, aren't you?"
Something inside Amira snapped. It wasn't a loud snap. It was the quiet, final sound of a lock clicking open.
She didn't scream. She didn't cry.
She turned around and walked to the storage closet down the hall. She found her old suitcase, the one she had brought with her eight years ago.
She went to the guest room, pushed past racks of Delisa's designer gowns, and began to pack.
She packed her laptop. Her medical degrees. Her passport. Her underwear. Jeans. T-shirts.
She left the diamond earrings Ethan had given her for their anniversary. She left the silk dresses he forced her to wear to galas. She left the shoes that hurt her feet.
She picked up the framed photo of her parents from the nightstand. She wrapped it carefully in a sweater and placed it in the bag.
Ethan leaned against the doorframe, watching her. He looked amused.
"You'll be back," he said. "You'll be back in a week when the money runs out. You can't survive out there."
Amira zipped the bag. The sound was sharp, decisive.
She walked past him.
"Leave the key card," he demanded.
Amira stopped at the console table in the foyer. She pulled the key card from her pocket. She dropped it. It hit the table with a plastic clatter.
"Goodbye, Ethan."
She walked out the door. She didn't look back.
She took the elevator down alone. She stepped out into the cold New York night. She had no home. She was about to have no job.
She pulled out her phone. 4% battery.
She opened the chat with Carleton.
Is the offer to stay still open?
Three dots appeared instantly.
