Chapter 12 - The Empty Side of the Bed
Dorian moved out.
Alina hated it.
That angered her even more.
She had spent months wanting freedom.
Now she had it.
And every room felt wrong.
He called once each evening.
Never pressured.
Never asked whether she had reconsidered the divorce.
He asked whether she had eaten.
Whether the baby was okay.
Whether she needed anything.
When she said no, he accepted it.
Then one evening she found a box outside her door.
Inside were twenty-seven letters.
All addressed to her.
None sent.
They dated back six months.
Dorian had written during every night he stayed away.
In one:
I came home at 2:13. You were asleep. I stood outside your door for eleven minutes. I wanted to tell you everything.
Another:
You asked if I still loved you tonight. I gave you the cruelest answer of my life because a microphone may have been in the room.
And another:
If you eventually hate me but survive me, I will accept that bargain.
Alina cried until sunrise.
Then she reached the final letter.
It had been written the night before their divorce appointment.
Tomorrow I will sign because she deserves the freedom to choose a life without fear. But if there is one selfish truth I am allowed to keep, it is this: I will love my wife long after she stops being my wife.
Alina picked up her phone.
Then stopped.
May you like
Love was not enough.
Not yet.
