Chapter 4

He glanced at the box and laughed.

"You think this is for you?" He picked up one of the tickets, waving it in front of my face. "Ainsley, you're delusional."

"But Iceland..." My voice caught. "You promised me—"

"This is a family trip." He flipped through the tickets casually, "You're staying here to watch the house."

"Four tickets..." I couldn't get the words out properly. "I thought maybe—"

"Terry, Roy, Liliana, and me." He said it slowly, deliberately, "There's no ticket for you. Got it?"

Then he pulled out his phone, "Hey baby," he said into the phone, his voice gentle in a way it never was with me. "Yeah, the tickets came. I can't wait to see the Northern Lights with you either. We'll take so many beautiful photos together..."

I sat there frozen. That was my dream, I'd been holding onto it for twenty-five years, waiting, hoping. And he was going to give it to her instead.

Two days later, I was sitting at the kitchen table, there was one new message from Dad.

"Dear Ainsley, here is your ticket. September 30th. Alaska. One way. Dad will be waiting for you there. Welcome home. — Love, Dad"

September 30th. That was only a week away.

One more week, I thought. I'll say goodbye the right way, even though they won't notice.

I drove to the grocery store and filled my cart with ingredients.

When I got home that afternoon, Liliana was lounging on the couch with a manicurist leaning over her hands, painting her nails some shade of pink.

She looked up when I walked in carrying grocery bags.

"Oh good, the maid's back," she said.

I stopped in the doorway.

"You know, Ainsley," she said, examining her wet nails in the light, "I've been really patient with you. But I think it's time you left this house. Just disappeared. Steven and I deserve to be happy without you hanging around making everything awkward."

My chest tightened. The bags felt heavy in my hands. "We were friends once, Lily. We shared a dorm room in college. How can you say these things to me?"

"Were friends," she corrected. "Past tense."

I turned and carried the groceries to the kitchen.

That night, Steven slammed the bedroom door open so hard it bounced off the wall.

"What the hell did you say to Liliana?" His face was red with fury. "She's saying she doesn't want to go to Iceland anymore!"

I'd had enough. "I'm your wife, Steven! Your wife! But you choose her every single time, and now you're taking her on my honeymoon, the trip you promised me twenty-five years ago!"

His hand shot out and caught me across the face. The slap was so hard my ears rang.

"Shut your mouth!" he screamed.

I pressed my palm against my cheek, feeling it burn. "Why are you doing this..."

He laughed then.

"You really want to know the truth?" He leaned in close, "I wanted to marry Liliana back then. But she wasn't ready to settle down. And there you were, looking at me like I was some kind of hero. So I figured, why not? I settled."

I felt dizzy.

"I've regretted it every single day for twenty-five years," he continued, "You don't come close to her. Not in looks, not in personality, not in anything. You were always just the backup plan. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

He grabbed my arm hard. "If you upset Liliana again, if you hurt her feelings one more time, I will throw you out of this house myself."

Then he was gone. Watching him walk away, I felt a bone-deep chill.

The next morning, I walked into the lawyer's office and picked up the divorce papers.

When I got home, I tucked them into a stack of bills and credit card statements on the kitchen counter.

"Steven, can you sign these real quick?" I put the pile in front of him while he was reading his phone.

He didn't even look. Just grabbed a pen and scrawled his signature on every page I put in front of him.

That night my phone buzzed. Text from the lawyer: Divorce finalized.

The next few days passed in silence.

On September 29th, I went out to the backyard with a metal trash can. I threw in every gift Steven had ever given me. Then I added all our photos.

I lit a match and dropped it in.

The fire caught fast. I stood there and watched everything burn until there was nothing.

That night, Steven came to bed looking almost guilty.

"Ainsley," he said, sitting on the edge of the mattress. "I went too far the other day. I shouldn't have said those things. Shouldn't have hit you."

I didn't respond.

"I just don't want you getting jealous of Liliana, you know?" He tried to smile. "Tell you what. When we get back from Iceland, I'll bring you a postcard. Something nice. How does that sound?"

A postcard. Twenty-five years of broken promises, and he thought a postcard would fix it.

"Can you help us pack tonight?" he continued. "We're flying out tomorrow morning. Eight o'clock flight."

"Tomorrow?" I said.

"Yeah. And make sure you pack Liliana's blue scarf. The cashmere one in the hall closet."

Perfect, I thought. My flight's tomorrow too. We're just heading different directions.

The next morning, they were all in the living room with their suitcases, checking tickets and passports.

Liliana adjusted her designer sunglasses. "Ainsley, don't worry. I'll bring you back something nice from Iceland."

"Don't waste your money, Auntie Lily," Terry said immediately. "She doesn't need presents."

Steven grabbed his carry-on. "We're heading out. Ainsley, make sure you lock up after we leave."

I stood at the window and watched their car pull out of the driveway, watched it turn the corner and disappear.

"Goodbye," I whispered.

I went back inside. On the dining room table, I laid out the signed divorce papers, already filed and processed. On top of them, I placed my wedding ring.

One last gift.

Then I picked up my suitcase, and walked out the front door for the last time.

When I was in the back of a taxi, my phone rang.

Steven's name on the screen.

I answered.

"Ainsley!" He was shouting so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear. "Liliana's blue scarf! She forgot it at home! You need to bring it to the airport right now! I specifically told you to pack it! This is your fault!"

"No," I said.

Silence on the other end. Then: "What did you just say to me?"

"I said no. I'm not bringing it to you."

"How dare you! When I get back home, you're going to pay for this! Be a good little dog and do what you're—"

"Steven," I interrupted him, "I'm not your maid anymore. You spent twenty-five years regretting that you married me? Well, I regret wasting twenty-five years of my life taking care of a man who never once saw me as human."

I took a breath.

"Goodbye, ex-husband."

I ended the call.

I settled back in my seat and looked ahead, toward my new life.