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"Somewhere along the line, yeah," Daniel agreed, his gaze shifting to the floor. "But we can still find happiness, even if it's apart."
Charlotte's hands shook as she picked up a neatly folded shirt from the pile of clothes on the couch, her eyes watering as she carefully placed it in a box. She hadn't even realized she had started helping Daniel pack their life away until she was knee-deep in the familiar routine, her mind numbly working through the motions.
"Are you...sure?" Charlotte asked tentatively, placing another shirt into the box and feeling the soft fabric between her fingers.
"Yes," Daniel said simply, his voice steady and resigned. He continued to wrap their framed photographs in bubble wrap, the sound of crinkling plastic filling the room like a somber soundtrack to their current situation.
They worked in silence, each lost in their thoughts and struggling to come to terms with the reality of what was unfolding before them. The air between them was thick with unspoken words and lingering regrets, but there was also a strange sense of understanding – an acknowledgment that sometimes, even the deepest love could not withstand the erosion of time and complacency. As she slid a stack of books into a box, she thought about how much she had sacrificed for their marriage – what he called people-pleasing, she had thought of as laying aside her dreams, her passions, her very identity, but for the good of them all as a family. So that they could all succeed together—Amelia as she grew, Daniel as his financial advisement firm took off and grew.
Her fingers traced the spine of a sketchbook she hadn't opened in years, its yellowed pages reminding her that she could have spent these years—what had Lillian Ashwood said—becoming exciting. How had Charlotte allowed herself to become so passive, so lost in the shadow of her marriage? And how had that effort now turned into such a negative in the eyes of her husband—not an appreciated choice, but a shortcoming?
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away as she continued packing. With every item she placed into the boxes, she felt an odd mixture of fear and liberation. Fear of facing the unknown, of starting anew without the man who had been her partner for a lifetime. And yet, a sense of liberation accompanied it – she would focus on herself, throw herself into her art, and relearn what it meant to be CharlotteAndersononce more. The girl before Daniel Moore.
When the last box was sealed, Daniel heaved it into his arms with a strained grunt and cleared his throat. They made their way toward the front door, each step feeling like wading through molasses, thick with unspoken emotions and the weight of finality.
As they reached the door, Daniel paused. He turned to Charlotte, his expression unreadably deep. “I've rented an apartment in Manhattan,” he said, his voice steady but his eyes avoiding hers. “It’s not far from the office. Makes sense, I guess, for now.”
Charlotte nodded, her throat tight. Manhattan – a new life, new beginnings, and a world away from the home they had built together.
“I’ll send for the rest of my stuff,” Daniel continued, the words seeming to hang in the air between them, heavy and final.
She watched him, a torrent of emotions swirling inside her. This was it. The end of what they had known, the start of what they would have to learn to live without. She should be angry, she should be shouting and raging. But she just feltnumb.
There was a pause, another silence that seemed to stretch too long, filled with the enormity of what was happening. Then, Daniel looked at her, really looked at her, with a vulnerability that she almost immediately felt manipulated by. “Charlotte,” he began, his voice low, “I need you to do something for me. Something I can't do myself.”
She met his gaze, steeling herself for what was to come.
“Can you...” He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing with the effort. “Can you tell Amelia about us? About the divorce?”
The request hit her like a physical blow. Her breath caught in her throat, the sheer gall of the responsibility of his decision now being passed to her. Charlotte’s heart raced, her mind speeding through the implications of this request. To be the bearer of such news to their daughter, to explain the unexplainable, to shoulder not just her own pain but now Amelia’s too – it was overwhelming.
The anger she should have felt all along reared its head. “You know, I think you can tell her,” Charlotte said, reaching behind him to open the front door. “I wouldn’t want to jump in on that little chore just to keep things smooth for you. You know—people pleasing.”
Daniel’s eyes widened, and then held hers for a moment longer, a silent apology, before he turned away and walked out the door. The door closed with a soft click, a definitive sound that seemed to echo through the now too-quiet house.
Charlotte stood there, alone in the entryway, the weight of the conversation, the weight of what was to come, resting heavily on her shoulders. She realized in that moment that her life was changing, irrevocably and completely. She was no longer just Charlotte, Daniel’s wife; Charlotte, Amelia’s mother.
So who was she now?
CHAPTER FOUR
Charlotte stood in the empty living room, her eyes gazing at the spot where their wedding picture used to hang. She had waited until Daniel pulled out of the driveway to walk through the house they once shared, now feeling more like a stranger than an occupant. The sound of Roxanne's car pulling up in the driveway was a necessary jolt, dragging Charlotte back from her melancholic thoughts.
"Char!" Roxanne called out as she burst through the front door, a bottle of wine gripped tightly in her hand. Her red heels clicked loudly on the hardwood floor, announcing her presence with every step. "I came as soon as I heard your voicemail."
Charlotte managed a weak smile, grateful for her sister's presence. "Thanks, Rox. I appreciate you being here."
"Always, sis," Roxanne replied, tossing her purse and keys onto the entryway table with a haphazard clatter. "That's what big sisters are for, right? Now let's get down to business." She bustled into the kitchen, her stride full of purpose.
As Charlotte watched her sister rummage through the cabinets for wine glasses, she envied Roxanne's strong personality. Where Charlotte often found herself bending to the will of others, Roxanne seemed incapable of compromise. It was a quality that had carried her far in life and, currently, made her the pillar Charlotte so desperately needed.
"Found them!" Roxanne exclaimed triumphantly, pulling two glasses out and setting them on the island. “Good to know that Daniel left you something, that weasel.” With practiced ease, she uncorked the wine and filled both glasses to the brim. "Now, let's sit and have ourselves a proper heart-to-heart."
They settled into the plush armchairs in the living room, the cozy familiarity of the space a subtle salve for Charlotte's wounded heart. The wine was rich and soothing, warming her from the inside out as they sipped in companionable silence.
"Look at us," Roxanne said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "Two sisters, just like old times, huh?"
"Except now we're adults drinking wine instead of sneaking Dad's beers," Charlotte added, a small chuckle escaping her lips despite the heaviness in her chest.
