Chapter 3

However, the very next second, Linnea's expression shifted to blame.

"I didn't remember, so why didn't you say something?

"And even if you can't eat seafood, there's still the beef carpaccio."

Still, I had never eaten anything raw. Linnea used to know that. At some point, she had forgotten everything.

I suddenly could not see the point of sitting there any longer. I stood up and left.

Behind me, Grant's voice was full of concern. "Is Theo upset?"

Linnea's barely lowered voice did nothing to hide her irritation. "He just has to kill the mood no matter what. Ignore him. Let's eat."

I walked out of the restaurant alone and took a cab home.

This time, there was no room left for denial. I sent my resignation to my company first, then started packing.

The study was where I began. Linnea's work could only be done at her office, so this room had always been mine. The books, the sketches, the notebooks. All of it mine.

I was halfway through when Linnea came home.

The smile on her face disappeared the moment she saw me. What replaced it was deep, unmistakable disappointment.

"Theo, when did you become like this? It's a holiday and you are refusing to enjoy it. You've been causing problems from morning to night.

"You're not going to stop until everyone's miserable, are you?"

It was almost laughable. Even now, she was accusing me of causing problems, of deliberately ruining everyone's experience.

I had nothing left to say to her.

"Linnea, let's get divorced."

The words barely left my mouth before her phone rang.

It was Grant's custom ringtone, a bright, cheerful melody.

Linnea had always kept her phone on the factory default. She said she could not be bothered to change things on it, but Grant was the sole exception.

In three years of marriage, she had gone through three phones. Every time she got a new one, the very first thing she did was set that melody as his ringtone.

I had asked about it once.

She told me the song had been with her since college, and that it was just a habit. I found out later that it belonged to Grant.

I watched her answer the call without a second of hesitation. After whatever was said on the other end, she turned and headed for the door.

"Wait for me. I'll be right there!"

The door slammed shut.

She had not heard me ask for a divorce, or perhaps she had heard and did not care.

I looked around the empty living room. Maybe my marriage to Linnea had been a mistake from the very beginning.

A custom ringtone that belonged only to Grant. A default shipping address she could never bring herself to delete. Every gift meant for me, every gift meant for my parents, all of it ending up with Grant.

Linnea had never tried to hide it.

I was the one who kept holding out hope, telling myself that one day she would see me, that she would come to her senses, that she would change.

In the end, nothing changed.

I was the only one who had wasted three years, living like a joke.

I finished packing everything in the study and went to the bedroom to wash up for the night.

By the time I came out, it was almost one in the morning, and Linnea had finally sent a single message.

"Grant ran into some trouble and needs my help. I won't be coming home tonight."

I did not reply. I locked my phone, lay down, and fell asleep almost immediately.

The next day, I continued packing. Clothes, toiletries, the small things that made up a daily life.

I had never noticed before, but now that I was sorting through everything, it became clear. Over three years of Linnea sending things to Grant's address, I had developed my own quiet, stubborn grief.

Whenever something she ordered ended up at his place, I simply never replaced it.

The matching slippers, the matching loungewear, a few decorative pieces and small plants I had picked out for the apartment.

The two electric toothbrushes on the bathroom counter were identical, the cheapest model available, ugly and barely functional.

After we got married, I had spent weeks researching the perfect electric toothbrush, something well-designed with all the right features. When I was ready to order, Linnea said she would take care of it.

It ended up at Grant's, as expected.

I asked her to get it back. She refused. So I walked to the nearest store and grabbed two of whatever was on the shelf. I stuck a waterproof label on mine so we could tell them apart, and I refused to buy replacements.

I thought that seeing those two cheap toothbrushes every morning would make her feel guilty and uncomfortable, and would push her to reorder the ones I had originally chosen.

However, that toothbrush had gone through three product generations since then and she had never once cared. We were still using the same ugly pair.

I stood there for a moment, looking at the two of them side by side. Then I picked them both up and dropped them in the trash.

By the time I finished packing, Linnea called.

"That bonus I mentioned from work came through today. My colleagues are insisting I treat everyone to dinner.

"You should come too. I'll send you the location."

I was about to say no, but then she added, "My parents are coming. Don't be late."

I paused, and the refusal died on my tongue. I let her hang up.

If I was going through with the divorce, her parents deserved to hear it from me in person.

I waited for the movers to arrive, had everything shipped out, and called Mom to ask her to sign for the boxes. I told her I would explain when I got home.

I took one last look at the apartment where Linnea and I had spent three years of marriage, then I left without looking back.