He kept going. “When was the last time you even put on real clothes? Or wore something that wasn’t stained?”
“You don’t see yourself anymore.”
My breath hitched. “So that’s it? You’re bored? You found someone with better leggings and tighter abs, and suddenly the last sixteen years are, what? A mistake?”
“You’ve let yourself go,” he said flatly.
That landed like a slap.
I blinked, slow and furious. “You know what I’ve let go of? Sleep. Privacy. Hot meals. Myself. I let myself go so you could chase promotions and sleep in on Saturdays while I kept our house and kids from catching on fire.”
He rolled his eyes.
“You always do this.”
“Do what?” I snapped.
“You’ve let yourself go.”
“Turn everything into a list of sacrifices. Like I should be grateful you chose to be tired.”
“I didn’t choose to be tired, Cole. I chose you. And you made me a single parent without even bothering to close the fridge.”
He opened his mouth like he was going to argue.
Then he closed it again. Picked up the bottle, and set it down.
“I’m leaving.”
“When?”
“Now.”
I laughed, short and mean. “You packed already?”
“I chose you.”
His jaw tensed.
Of course he had. The clothes. The message. This wasn’t spontaneous. It was planned.
“You were going to walk out,” I said slowly, “without even saying goodbye to the kids?”
“They’ll be fine. I’ll send money.”
My hand curled around the counter.
“Money,” I repeated. “Rose is going to ask where her pancakes are tomorrow. You think a direct deposit’s going to answer that?”
His jaw tensed.
He shook his head. “I’m not doing this.”
He turned, heading upstairs.
I followed.
Because there was no way I was letting him ghost a whole family from a hallway.
Our bedroom door was open. His suitcase was already halfway zipped, clothes folded too neatly for someone just deciding to leave.
“You were never going to tell me, were you?” I asked.
“I’m not doing this.”
“I was.”
“When? After the hotel? After the pictures were posted?”
He didn’t answer.
I stood in the doorway, shaking. “You could’ve just told me you were unhappy.”
“I am telling you,” he snapped. “I’m choosing my happiness.”
“And what about ours?”
His back was turned, shoulders stiff.
“I can’t do this with you, Paige,” he said. “You make everything messy.”
“I’m choosing my happiness.”
I felt something snap inside me, like a rubber band that had been stretched too long.
“No, you made it messy when you decided to see someone else.”
He said nothing. He just dragged the suitcase past me and out the door.
I didn’t follow him, but I did walk to the window, watching his taillights disappear without slowing once.
Then I went downstairs and locked the door, letting the weight of everything he didn’t say hit me all at once.
**
I didn’t follow him.
“Okay,” I whispered into my fist. “Okay. Breathe.”
I stayed there, listening to the silence.
I cried until it felt like bruising from the inside out, but not just for me. It was for the questions that would come in the morning. For the kids asking questions I couldn’t lie about, and couldn’t fully explain without breaking something in them.
**
At six sharp, my youngest climbed into bed with me, dragging her blanket like a cape. She curled against me.
“Mommy,” Rose mumbled. “Is Daddy making pancakes?”
My heart cracked wide open.
“Is Daddy making pancakes?”
“Not today, baby,” I said softly, and kissed her curls.
I got up before I could fall apart again. I worked through breakfast, lunchboxes, missing socks, and a missing shoe that somehow made two kids grumpy.
I was pouring milk a few hours later when my phone rang.
Mark, Cole’s coworker, the one my kids trusted enough to climb on like a jungle gym.
I pressed the phone to my ear. “Mark, I can’t —”
“Paige,” he cut in. His voice was sharp and controlled, but underneath, there was panic. “You need to come. Now.”
“Mark, I can’t—”
“Where?” I stopped pouring. “What’s going on?”
“I’m at the office,” he said. “Cole’s in a glass conference room. HR is here. Darren’s here too.”
“What did Cole do?”
Mark hesitated for a moment. “The company card. It got flagged.”
I gripped the edge of the counter. “Flagged for what? I didn’t even know he had access to it.”
“Hotel stays. Gifts. All tied to the trainer from the on-site gym. Alyssa. She’s a vendor under our wellness contract, and compliance has been auditing Cole’s expenses for weeks. They didn’t know it was an affair until last night. They just knew he was bleeding money.”
“What’s going on?”
My stomach turned.
“The company phone plan flagged him,” Mark continued. “Then the charges matched the same dates. They don’t need romance rumors. They have receipts.”
