I need to apologize to Melly, to see her in person, to talk face-to-face, to say the words out loud. Desperately wishing I could take it all back, every choice, every mistake. This is my fault. Pushing her into this is something I regret more with every breath I take.
My stomach lurches. I barely make it to the bathroom before everything comes up. After rinsing my mouth, I tear through the house as if I can somehow change what I already know is true.
My steps falter at her reading nook. Her chair, the one she used to curl up with her books, has vanished, and the lamp is missing. The shelves are bare.
Her skates, trophies, and costumes from years of competing have disappeared. All traces of her here have been wiped away.
It's then that I realize that Melly's lost to me. She's completely erased herself from my life.
Struggling to catch my breath, I stumble aimlessly into the kitchen and reach to get a glass of water. On the counter sits an envelope waiting with my name written on it in Melly's handwriting. For one foolish beat, hope flares in me before extinguishing when I open it. Inside are divorce papers. A bright pink sticky note clings to the front.
It reads,
“This is what cheaters deserve.”
Tears streak down my face, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore. Something small and heavy slips from the envelope and clinks on the kitchen tile.
Her wedding rings.
I drop to my knees, desperately grabbing them. I clutch them so tight, they dig into my skin. The silent house swallows my broken sobs. And in the emptiness, the weight of it all settles over me. I curl on the cold floor, finally understanding what it cost me.
