I watched him drive away and felt something I hadn’t felt in days.
Hope.
Someone was actually on my side, and not trying to tell me what to do or berate me left and right.
I survived the week from hell. Evan’s family calling me every name. Carrie begging me to leave him. Evan looking through me like I was already gone. The only person who didn’t treat me like a criminal was Jeff. He checked on me every day. Brought me food when I couldn’t eat. Told me Evan was wrong for what he did.
But I held on because the test results were finally here. This was my proof. My vindication.
Except when I opened that envelope, I didn’t find salvation.
I found something that made everything a thousand times worse.
Three more days passed before the envelope arrived. Jeff checked on me a few times and brought food when he could, but mostly I was alone in a house where my husband lived twenty feet away and acted like I didn’t exist. Evan had been locked in the guest room since the night of the party. He’d leave for work before I woke up. He’d come home after I’d already gone to bed. The only sign he was still living there was the coffee mug in the sink every morning and the sound of the guest room door clicking shut every night. We existed in the same house like ghosts who couldn’t see each other.
Sometimes I’d stand outside the guest room door with my hand raised, ready to knock, ready to try one more time.
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