Part 2The Crumb in the Passenger Seat

When I handed the papers to Ethan, he was typing on his laptop. He glanced at them annoyed and tossed them aside.

"What is this? Another renovation estimate?"

"I've told you, the housing market isn't—"

"It's divorce papers," I cut him off. "Read them. We need to discuss the asset division."

Ethan froze. He picked up the document, flipped through a page, and let out a mocking laugh.

"Chloe, really? Since when did you start with these dramatic theatrics?"

"I feed you, I clothe you, I give you this lifestyle. And now you want me to play along with your little soap opera?"

I looked him in the eye.

"If your memory still works, you'll recall I had a career. You and your mother begged me to quit to manage your life."

"Nannies and housekeepers in this city cost five grand a month, minimum. You aren't 'keeping' me. I've been working for you for free. Don't make yourself out to be some hero."

Ethan looked up, genuinely shocked. I had never spoken to him like this.

His shock turned into anger. He slammed the papers onto the table.

"Have you lost your mind?!"

"I saw the crumbs in the passenger seat," I said calmly.

Ethan frowned deeply.

"Over that? seriously?"

I nodded.

"Yes. Over that."

"If you don't agree, I'll file through the courts. It'll get messy. That won't look good for your company's image, will it?"

Ethan stared at me, his eyes dark. After a long standoff, he grabbed a pen, scribbled his signature aggressively, and threw the papers back at me.

"Happy now?!"

"Let me tell you something, Chloe. Don't come crawling back to me crying like you used to."

He sneered. "Like a dog."

My heart felt a sharp, familiar squeeze. He knew exactly where to stab to hurt me the most.

But the pain passed quickly.

"Let's go," I said, grabbing my coat. "My lawyer can file this electronically, but you need to vacate the house while we sort this out. Or I will."

"You leave," he snapped. "This is my house."

"Fine."

...

Moving out was easier than I thought.

Ethan didn't even look at me as I packed. He just drove off to work, leaving me in the driveway.

I realized as I packed that most of the things in the house belonged to him. My life fit into a single 28-inch suitcase.

I checked into a hotel.

Lying on the pristine white sheets, I realized something strange.

Leaving Ethan wasn't hard.

I used to think I would die without him.

But I didn't feel grief. I felt relief. Like a boulder had been lifted off my chest.

I hadn't been in love with him for a long time. I was just addicted to the habit of loving him.