Subject: Divorce Consultation
I had scheduled the meeting the night before.
Everything was moving quickly now.
“Lauren,” Ethan said again, sounding exhausted. “Can you at least help me get home?”
I considered it.
For exactly three seconds.
“No.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re just going to leave me stranded?”
“You weren’t worried about leaving me betrayed.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
He had no answer.
Eventually he sighed.
“Daniel’s here.”
“Of course he is.”
“He said he’ll call us a taxi to the airport.”
“That’s generous of him.”
“But I still don’t have money for a flight.”
“That sounds like a problem.”
“Lauren—”
“Goodbye, Ethan.”
And this time I ended the call for good.
Three hours later Daniel sent me a photo.
Ethan and Vanessa were standing outside the hotel entrance.
Both looked miserable.
The tropical sun was harsh, and they were dragging suitcases along the sidewalk while arguing loudly.
Daniel’s message said only one thing:
She just left him.
Apparently Vanessa had managed to buy a last-minute ticket using her own credit card.
She hadn’t offered Ethan the same courtesy.
Instead she’d shouted something about “liars” and “cheap men” before storming off.
Ethan had been left alone on the curb.
In Hawaii.
With no money.
No credit card.
And no wife willing to rescue him.
I packed his things that night.
It took longer than I expected.
Not because there was so much stuff.
But because every item reminded me of something.
The watch I bought him for our anniversary.
The leather jacket from our trip to Seattle.
The framed photo from our wedding.
I paused when I reached that one.
Ethan and I stood on a beach, laughing as the wind blew through my veil.
We looked happy.
Maybe we were.
Or maybe I just didn’t know him as well as I thought.
I set the photo face-down in the box.
Ethan called again that evening.
I didn’t answer.
Then he texted.
Please just talk to me.
Another message.
I’m at the airport.
Another.
I had to borrow money from a stranger for food.
I stared at the screen for a moment.
Then I turned the phone face-down and went to bed.
For the first time in years, I slept peacefully.
Ethan returned three days later.
By then his belongings were already waiting on the porch.
Five cardboard boxes.
One suitcase.
And a note taped to the top.
You lied.
You cheated.
I’m done.
I watched from the living room window as he walked up the driveway.
He looked terrible.
Sunburned.
Wrinkled clothes.
Dark circles under his eyes.
He read the note slowly.
Then he knocked on the door.
“Lauren?”
I didn’t move.
He knocked again.
“Please talk to me.”
