It was New Year’s Eve. Maxwell Kane came downstairs, dressed impeccably. I was putting up festive decorations on the windows. He walked over to me. “I won’t be home for the New Year. Will you be alright on your own?” Before I could ask why, he delivered the blow. “She’s pregnant. The baby’s mine. I have to be with her.” My hand trembled. What I was holding slipped from my fingers and hit the floor. “Why tell me now, of all times?” His silence was the only answer I needed. Our marriage was over. My voice was a raw, broken thing. “Maxwell, let’s get a divorce.” “Ava, haven’t I been good to you? Why would you want a divorce?” 1 Even the calmest, most rational person would shatter hearing those words. I snatched the heavy crystal ashtray from the coffee table and hurled it at him. “Why!” “Why?!” “Maxwell, you’re with another woman, and you have the audacity to ask me why?” “Don’t you hear how ridiculous you sound?” Maxwell didn’t flinch. Glass sprayed across the floor. A dark bruise instantly blossomed on his forehead. It wasn’t enough. I threw books, magazines, anything I could get my hands on, pelting him with the debris of our life together. Maxwell stood there, still as a statue, not even a flicker of pain in his eyes. Finally, I smashed my favorite vase—the one holding the flowers I’d picked from the garden just this morning. Maxwell had always been a cold man. Before we married, this house was a sterile monument to minimalist design, all cool tones and sharp edges. It had no soul. Every week, I’d buy flowers to breathe some warmth into the space. After we married, I hired a designer, hand-picked every piece of furniture, every small object, to turn this house into a home. Our home. And now, I had destroyed it with my own hands. The wreckage mirrored the ruin inside me. Maxwell just watched me, his eyes strange, as if he were observing a madwoman. When I had nothing left to throw, I sank to the floor, covering my face, and sobbed. He walked over and stood above me. After a long moment, he lifted me from the floor, cleared a space on the sofa, and gently set me down. He knelt before me, a flicker of what looked like pain in his own eyes. He brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Ava, don’t do this… It hurts me to see you like this.” 2 I saw my reflection in his eyes—a tear-stained, pathetic mess. I froze. How had it come to this? I wiped my cheeks, trying to gather the scattered pieces of my composure. “Do you remember what you promised me?” I whispered. “You said we’d be together forever. Through thick and thin. Grow old together.” But Maxwell, we’ve only been married three years. And you’ve already betrayed me. You’ve betrayed our marriage. “How long have you been with her?” His gaze darted away, unable to meet mine. “Almost a year.” A whole year? They’d known each other that long? I dug my nails into my palm, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Why choose now to tell me? Why not just keep lying?” Maxwell sat down beside me in silence, pulling out a lighter and a cigarette. The smoke hazed the sharp lines of his face. “I didn’t want to lie to you.” I didn’t want to lie to you. What a noble, hollow sentiment. If he didn’t love me anymore, he could have just told me. We could have divorced. I’m not the kind of woman who clings. But he chose to cheat. “She’s young,” he said, his voice distant. “In her early twenties. So full of life. She’s not like you, Ava. She accepts the gifts I buy her, the money I give her. She’s clingy, affectionate.” As he spoke, a light I hadn’t seen in years ignited in his eyes, only to dim when he looked back at me. “But you… you’re none of those things, Ava. With you, everything feels… muted.” “I’m your husband. I’m supposed to be the closest person to you.” But Maxwell, this is who I am. Quiet. Reserved. My childhood, my family—it made me this way. I don’t know how to be overly affectionate. I don’t like to be a burden. I keep a careful ledger, even with the people I love most. I was trying to change. I was learning to lean on him. But where was he when I needed him? When I was lying in a hospital bed after the car crash, calling his phone over and over? “Every Monday, you make lasagna. Every Wednesday, it’s roast chicken. I’m tired of it, Ava. I’m so tired of this bland, predictable life.” I didn’t understand. The table was always full of dishes. Only one or two were my favorites; the rest were his. Why was he fixating on those two? “You’re like… plain porridge, Ava,” he said, the words twisting like a knife. “Nourishing, but tasteless. A shame to throw away. But she… she’s like candy. Sweet, addictive. I can’t get enough of her.” A small, fond smile touched his lips. “She’s so bold. She dragged me to an amusement park and insisted we go into the haunted house first. She stood there with her hands on her hips, claiming she wasn’t scared. The second we were inside, she was so terrified she leaped into my arms and wouldn’t let go.” “Her heart was pounding so fast against my chest. Thump, thump, thump. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her face flushed, and she kissed me. I should have pushed her away. But I didn’t…” “Stop it!” The pain was a numb, crushing weight. I couldn’t breathe. “Ava…” “Maxwell, I’m begging you. Please, just stop.” 3 The living room fell into a dead silence. Maxwell’s phone rang. He pulled it out, glanced at me, and answered it without a hint of shame. A young, sweet voice chirped from the speaker. “I’m hungry. When are you coming back?” “Hungry?” As Maxwell looked at me, I shot to my feet, my mind racing, frantically searching for something. “Mmm-hmm. Me and the baby are both hungry.” “I’ll be right there to feed you both.” A chill went through my entire body. I pressed my hands to my head, trying to think. What was I looking for? My phone. Yes, my phone. What if there was an important work message I’d missed? What if I’d missed an important call? “Be good now, baby. I’ll be there soon.” “I love you, hubby! Mwah!” I tried desperately to block out the sound, wishing I were deaf. But I wasn’t. Maxwell’s light, cheerful voice washed over me like a toxic wave. Only the sting of blood in my palm, where my nails had broken the skin, brought me back to myself. Maxwell had ended the call at some point and was now standing behind me. “She’s getting impatient. I should go.” “I’ll explain everything to my parents. If you don’t want to go to the family dinner tomorrow, you can stay here.” He paused. “Do you want me to call the housekeeper to stay with you over the holiday?” “No, that’s probably not a good idea. It’s New Year’s Eve. She should be with her family.” He spoke as if he were thinking aloud. So he did know it was New Year’s Eve. A time for family. What did that make me? A stranger? Someone completely irrelevant? I picked up the electric kettle and poured myself a glass of hot water. The warmth spreading down my throat did little to dispel the icy cold that had taken root in my soul. “Maxwell. Let’s get a divorce.” At the entryway, Maxwell paused, his hand on the doorknob. “I promised I would take care of you for the rest of your life, Ava. If you want, you can always be Mrs. Kane. We can go on just like before.” “And her?” “I’ll buy her a house. Settle her somewhere else. I won’t let her bother you.” 4 Maxwell left. I was alone in the wreckage of our living room. Before he walked out the door, he had come back to wipe away my tears. And with the same lips that had kissed me a thousand times, he’d said the words that broke me. “Ava, just be good. She won’t try to take anything from you.” I walked numbly up the stairs and into our bedroom. I stared at our wedding photo. The girl in the picture was smiling, her face a portrait of pure happiness. I turned and went into the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. The woman in the mirror was a disaster. Red-rimmed eyes, tear-streaked cheeks. I slowly raised my hand. Ava, this isn’t you. The cold water was a shock. I told myself not to be sad. But how could I not be sad after so many years? I collapsed onto the bed, wishing it had all been a nightmare. But when I woke up, the memories were still there, sharp and vivid, a cruel reminder that it was all real. My phone vibrated. It was Maxwell’s mother. I ignored it, staring blankly at my laptop screen. A few moments later, it rang again. I hesitated, then answered. “Ava, darling, it’s New Year’s Eve. You and Maxwell, remember to come home early.” I held the phone, unsure how to respond. “Ava?” “Maxwell… did he not tell you anything?” “What’s wrong? Did you two have a fight? That boy isn’t even answering his phone.” “It’s nothing.” “Well, as long as everything’s alright. Just remember to come home early with Maxwell.” 5 Some things couldn’t be said over the phone. It was better to talk in person. But before I went to the Kane estate, I had to stop at a print shop. The usually bustling streets were eerily quiet for the holiday. I tried several shops, but they were all closed. The bitter wind whipped around me, and I pulled my coat tighter. Just as I was about to give up, I saw a small copy shop with its lights still on. Maybe, I thought, my luck wasn’t so bad after all. The owner asked what I needed to print, if I needed help. I managed a polite smile. “No, thank you.” He paused, probably wondering who on earth would be printing a divorce agreement on New Year’s Eve. He quickly bound the documents and handed them to me. “Happy New Year,” he said. My hand froze as I was about to pay. He was the first person to wish me a Happy New Year today. Not my family. Not even Maxwell. A sudden sting filled my eyes. “Happy New Year to you, too.” Outside the shop, I took a deep breath, tucked the documents into my bag, and called Maxwell. “Are you going to your parents’?” “He’s in the shower right now and can’t take your call,” a woman’s voice answered. “Is there a message I can pass along, Ms. Cole?” It wasn’t Maxwell. It was his little mistress. Her words were dripping with provocation. “Please inform Maxwell that his mother wants him to come home.” 6 When I arrived at the Kane estate, Maxwell’s mother was in the kitchen, preparing for dinner. I walked in with the gifts I’d brought. “Ava, dear, why are you alone? Where is that boy?” Faced with their questions, I was at a loss for words. “Maxwell is busy. He’ll be here later.” “So busy on New Year’s Eve? I told him to come home early.” His father grumbled. “I’m going to call him and see what’s so important.” I didn’t try to stop him. I didn’t care. I went into the kitchen to help. Maxwell’s parents had always been kind to me. It was a holiday. I didn’t want to ruin it for everyone. I decided I would talk about my situation with Maxwell another day. We worked all afternoon, but there was still no sign of Maxwell. As dusk fell, we had just sat down to eat when he finally arrived. But he wasn’t alone. “Mom, Dad, I’m home.” Maxwell held a gift in one hand. With the other, he was holding a young woman’s hand. He probably thought I had already told his parents everything. Just then, fireworks exploded outside the window, their colorful bursts lighting up the night sky. It felt like they were celebrating Maxwell and his new love. When the sound of the fireworks died down, Maxwell’s parents exchanged a look. They could see something was wrong. “What time is it? Do you know you’re supposed to be here?” his mother said, her eyes sweeping over the girl by his side. “And on such an important day, why would you bring a stranger home?” The girl seemed frightened and instinctively leaned closer to Maxwell. Maxwell frowned at me, as if he wished I weren’t there. A few seconds later, he smiled and held up their intertwined hands. “Mom, Dad, she’s not a stranger.” “Her name is Chloe. We’re together.”
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