Evelyn
Days later.
I paced back and forth across the living room, bare feet moving restlessly over the carpet. The house felt too quiet. Too empty. Mark still hadn’t come home since the night he texted that he wouldn’t be returning. At first I had been worried. I called him. I sent messages. I even tried his office line once. Every single attempt went unanswered.
Then I saw the posts.
Smiling photos of him at expensive restaurants. Pictures on a beach with a drink in his hand. Stories of him living carelessly, as if he didn’t have a wife waiting at home with divorce papers on the dining table. The worry inside me curdled into anger so sharp it made my hands shake.
He was enjoying himself while I sat here drowning in uncertainty.
I needed him to sign those papers. I needed this marria
