She seemed almost pleased.
I looked at Derek.
He suddenly found the floor fascinating.
Then I looked back at my husband.
“No.”
The slap came so fast I didn’t see his arm move.
My head snapped sideways.
For a few seconds, all I heard was a high ringing sound.
My cheek burned.
My lip caught against my teeth.
When I touched it, my fingers came away red.
Owen’s expression changed immediately.
Not into remorse.
Into fear.
Not fear that he had hurt me.
Fear that I might do something about it.
Lorraine broke the silence.
“Maybe now she’ll understand.”
That was the moment my marriage ended.
Not legally.
That would come later.
But inside me, it was over.
I walked to the closet and pulled out my carry-on suitcase.
Owen scoffed.
“What are you doing?”
“Leaving.”
“At midnight?”
“Yes.”
“Stop being dramatic.”
I folded two dresses into the bag.
“You hit me.”
“You pushed me into it.”
I stopped.
Slowly turned around.
He actually believed that sentence.
Lorraine nodded behind him.
“You kept provoking him.”
I zipped my suitcase.
Owen grabbed the handle.
“You’re not leaving.”
I looked at his hand.
“Take your hand off my bag.”
“Or what?”
For the first time that night, I smiled.
It wasn’t a happy smile.
It was the smile I usually wore before hostile acquisitions.
“Owen, you have absolutely no idea what happens next.”
He laughed.
“You make fifty grand a year and have twelve hundred dollars worth of furniture. Stop pretending you’re dangerous.”
I pulled the suitcase from his grip.
Downstairs, his father, Raymond, was asleep in a recliner with the television on.
Nobody stopped me as I walked outside in my wedding dress carrying a suitcase.
Owen followed me onto the porch.
“You’re seriously calling a rideshare?”
