I wasted no more time. I called my former colleagues. We’d been a team before. This whole ordeal had exposed Mark for who he was. They were ready to leave too. We had the connections, the skills, the experience. Within three days, we were up and running.
Two weeks later, our makeshift company was taking shape, making a name for itself. Then, Mark showed up outside my office building. He was impeccably dressed, but his eyes were dull, empty. “Wendy.” He saw Beth, my business
partner, get out of the car behind me. He
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hesitated, then approached.
Beth looked at me. “Want me to go?”
I linked arms with her. “There’s nothing to
hide.”
Mark flinched. “Is this why you want a divorce?
Because of him?”
I didn’t answer, just told him to get to the point. He clenched his jaw, eyes bloodshot. “I sent Sarah away. I committed her. To a mental hospital. Why won’t you give me another
chance? Isn’t that enough?”
I shook my head. “Mark, it’s over. Some things
can’t be fixed. What you do with Sarah is your
business, not mine. As for chances… I gave you
plenty. Did you give me any?”
He stared at me, reaching out. “I was afraid of losing you. I just…”
く
I pulled away. “Those are just selfish excuses.
What about our wedding? Giving that to Sarah?
What about our wedding night, spent with her?
What about me, bleeding in the hospital, with
no one to sign the consent forms? It’s over,
Mark. I’m not a toy you can pick up and discard
whenever you please.”
He tried to grab my hand again. “No, it wasn’t
like that…”
I slapped him. “You knew the truth. You knew I was suffering, and you did nothing. You watched me fall apart. Even when I lost the
baby because of her, you did nothing. Tell me again it wasn’t like that. Explain all of this. Oh, and by the way, it was Sarah who liked the bracelet, not me!”
He didn’t react. He just stared, head bowed, shoulders slumped. His eyes were red.
I watched him, feeling no satisfaction. I just
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wanted to be free of the past.
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He mumbled apologies. “I’m sorry, Wendy. I’m
so sorry. I don’t know what to say… I’m just so
sorry.”
I said nothing. The vibrant young man I once
knew was gone.
He whispered, “Will you ever… come back?”
“No.”
He choked back a sob, then crouched down,
covering his face. His cries echoed in the night.
I walked away.
He agreed to the divorce quickly. Along with the
lawyer’s notification, I learned he’d signed over
everything to me, including the house. I refused
- it. I wanted no reminders.
Beth, the team, and I poured our energy into the
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new company. We became industry leaders, rediscovering our passion and drive. I found myself again.
Three years later, I heard Mark’s name mentioned at a reunion of former colleagues. He was dead. A car accident. He’d been
clutching the baby clothes I’d bought, and his last text message was to me, saying he was sorry, that he missed me.
I just smiled faintly.
Sarah hadn’t fared much better. When she
heard about Mark’s accident, she’d slit her
wrists. This time, she succeeded. She was
buried next to him.
After the reunion, Beth suggested we visit Mark’s grave. I agreed. Beth brought a bottle of whiskey, placing it on the headstone.
I looked at his picture, then spoke just one
61
sentence. “Goodbye, Mark. I hope we never
meet again.”
