CHAPTER 3: THE RETURN
He unlocked the front door and walked inside as though nothing had happened.
"Hey, I'm back," he called out.
He stepped into the living room.
And froze.
The house was spotless. The dishes were done. The laundry was folded. The babies were clean, fed, and sleeping peacefully in their cribs.
But I was nowhere to be seen.
"Eleanor?" he called out.
I walked down the stairs, dressed in a black blouse and tailored pants. My hair was brushed. My makeup was done. I looked like a woman who had her life together.
Brandon stared at me.
"You look... different."
"I've had time to think," I said.
"About what?"
I walked past him to the kitchen table and picked up a folder.
"About us."
I handed him the folder.
He opened it and stared at the contents.
"What is this?"
"Divorce papers. I've already filed."
He looked up at me, his face pale.
"You can't be serious."
"I'm very serious."
"But the babies—"
"You gave up any right to be part of their lives when you left me alone for four days."
"I was just tired—"
"So was I," I said. "But I didn't get to walk away. I had to stay and figure it out."
He opened his mouth to argue.
I held up my hand.
"Brandon, I've spent months carrying this family alone. I've spent months being the one who wakes up, the one who feeds them, the one who cleans up, the one who stays awake all night. And you've done nothing."
He started crying.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry. Please, give me another chance."
I looked at him.
"I gave you a chance every day. I gave you a chance when you didn't help. I gave you a chance when you ignored me. I gave you a chance when you walked out that door."
"Eleanor—"
"I'm not giving you another chance."
I walked to the door and opened it.
"You need to leave."
"Please—"
"Leave, Brandon. Before I call the police."
He stood there for a long moment, tears streaming down his face.
Then he walked out the door.
And I closed it behind him.
I leaned against the door and cried.
May you like
But they were not tears of sadness.
They were tears of relief.
