Chapter 2

ELEANOR—

I don’t know how much I cried last night before falling asleep, my body eventually surrendering to drowsiness. But the remnants of my tears still linger, a stinging sensation in my eyes and a dull ache in my chest.

My face feels stiff this morning, the muscles strained from holding back sobs last night, while my eyes throb with a heavy, unshed weight.

I touch the empty bed beside me and take hold of the empty house.

I’m always used to an empty house; Arthur is a working man and he often leaves me home alone.

But today’s emptiness feels so hollow, so deep and so solemn.

I make my way to the kitchen to drown my stomach in water, only to meet a huge note on the kitchen island.

A note that says:

“I’ll prepare the divorce papers as soon as possible and send them to you

‘Arthur—

I bite back a curse, my fingers crumpling the paper in my hand, but I manage to keep my emotions in check.

Arthur seems unfazed about this whole thing, and I will try to follow his lead.

I pour myself a glass of water, the sound of the liquid hitting the glass the only break in the silence. I sit, lost in thought, my mind consumed by the uncertainty of my future.

The familiar routine of my morning feels off-kilter today, but I go through the motions anyway.

Finally, I pack my bags, gather every last possession that's been a part of Arthur Newton's life, and walk out the door.

-

My life was once marked by desperation, but I've since carved out a life alongside Arthur. Four years of living with him have given me a sense of belonging. Yet, ironically, those same four years have also made me painfully aware that, aside from him, I have no one else to call family.

My parents are long gone as far as I can remember.

I make my way to Cindy’s, the one soul that has accepted me and made it known to me that I can rely on her whenever I can— my best friend.

And right now, I really need a shoulder to cry on.

As I step into Cindy's home, surrounded by my luggage, I'm met with a look of understanding. No explanations are needed; the sight of my bags speaks volumes, and she knows instinctively that my life has just taken a dramatic turn.

“That fucking animal!” She slams, brushing her red locks behind her ears and pulling me in a hug.

I break our contact take a seat on her unfamiliar couch and feel my lips quiver.

“He wants a divorce,” I say the words, not to Cindy but more to myself, coming to a realization.

“That prick! After all you did for him? Really? A divorce?” Cindy fumes.

I don’t say anything because I’m afraid my words might turn to tears, so I just listen to Cindy curse Arthur.

“If you didn’t get married to him and made him a man again, fixing that gross illness he had, he wouldn’t have had the guts to call for divorce. He is no man! He is a phony and an embarrassment and Eleanor you deserve so much better, not a man that’ll use you and divorce you when he’s ready to bounce around again.” Cindy sits beside me and rubs my arms.

“It’s okay” I pull my hand to myself.

I needed consolation and now the consolation is making me feel worse.

“It’s not okay! First, you went through a series of his horrendous temper from him, a temper that would make any woman insane and now he wants a damn divorce. Did he forget how much he made you suffer? If anyone should ask for a divorce it’s you! I don’t care if you both got married through contracts or whatever ”

This consolation is starting to feel like a foolish realization that I don’t want to come to terms with.

“I just want to be alone for now,” I gulp. “Is that okay?”

Cindy nods, her big brown eyes widening in acceptance.

“Of course, definitely, you can rest in my bedroom, if you need anything at all I’m just out here,” she says with a sheer smile.

I nod and thank her, making my way to her bedroom feeling as hollow as ever.

I try to close my eyes and sleep but it just feels impossible.

The bed beneath my body is soft and the room is gloomy enough to put me to sleep but yet.

I can’t stop thinking— as an overthinker, it’s highly impossible.

I want to cry but I don’t have the strength for that.

I pull out my phone and pray for a distraction as I dive into the internet.

But even the internet feels like a part of my limb is in hell.

News reports Brianna Brown—daughter of Brown Jenkins, one of the founders of PH Enterprise, the largest jewelry conglomerate—has flown into the country, and every blog and social media sphere is buzzing with stories and photos of her.

Brianna.

My fingers tighten around my phone and I narrow my blurry sight to take hold of the almost blurry picture captured by one of the news outlets of Brianna at the airport being welcomed by what seems to be her family.

I try to make out each of the faces but I can’t, I do not need any soul to tell me the six-footed man standing beside Brianna holding a bouquet, captured in a frozen blurry picture of smiles spread across his face is my husband, soon to be ex— Arthur.

My chest clenches and I bite my bottom lip to keep me in check.

My heart skips a beat when my phone begins to ring and as I answer it, a familiar voice vibrates through.

“Eleanor”

Shit. Arthur.

“Hello?” I try to sound the opposite of how I’m feeling.

I guess the divorce paper’s ready and he can’t wait for me to sign them.

I breathe out a sigh.

“If it’s about the papers, you can send them directly to Cindy’s apartment, I believe you know where that is—

“Eleanor!” Arthur cuts me off gently.

I stop talking.

“It’s not about the divorce papers” he begins. “It’s Grandma, she wants to meet with us”

Cassandra?