I made dinner for our anniversary. I'd even set the table with the good china, the one his mother gave us as a wedding gift four years ago.
I even can't believe it's been that long. I wanted tonight to be special because meeting with his mom really stirred something in me today. The way he acted, how sweet he was, it just felt like the perfect time to try mending our relationship again.
Benjamin walked in at 10:30p.m on the dot., just as he always did every night. He stopped in the doorway to the dining room, eyes narrowing at the candlelight flickering across the plates.
" What is this? "
I ignored the coldness of his voice and smiled anyway.
"Hey," I said, forcing brightness into my voice. I really desperately needed him to love this "I made your favourite. Thought we could—"
"Stop." His voice cut clean through the room. Low and Dangerous. "Can you just not do this to me today? Stop trying to make this a happy home when you know its not."
My smile faltered. "Ben I just thought—"
"Don't." He dropped his jacket on the back of a chair, the thud loud in the silence. "We spent three hours pretending for my mother at lunch. I don't feel like keeping up the charade in private."
I gripped the edge of the table. " it's our anniversary. I just thought that we could have a nice dinner celebrating that at least."
" Celebrating what exactly? Our fake marriage?. The trap you set for me?" His voice sounded so cold and unfamiliar.
" I did not trap you. You always had a choice in this"
"You manipulated my mother and made me marry you. How is that not a trap"
He paused for a brief second. Like he just reached some level of clarity then continued to speak.
" She was sick and dying talking about last wishes and you got into her head, Charlotte." He stepped closer, eyes blazing. "The cancer. The chemo. She was barely conscious, fighting for her life; and you convinced her that me getting married to you was a good idea, that we were already in love. That me marrying you was her dying wish. So I did it. For her sake. I forced myself to marry you because I wanted my mother to be happy.."
The air left my lungs. I'd apologized a thousand times in my head. Out loud, only once ; the day after the wedding. When he looked at me like I was a stranger, eyes filled with hatred. I didn't think his mom was going to make it till the wedding but she did and she somehow powered through and was still alive today which I was happy about obviously, we were both obviously happy about that, we both loved her but then we couldn't divorce after that because she tied his inheritance to how long we stayed married.
"I said I was sorry, okay. I never meant for it to get this far." I whispered. "I just wanted her to have hope. One last thing to look forward to because I thought she was dying."
"Hope?" He laughed, short and bitter. "You mean control. You knew I didn't love you romantically. You knew I only thought of you as a great friend, Char. My best friend even. We'd been friends since college, and you still let her guilt me into giving you a ring. So much so that I had to stand at that altar and promise forever to a woman who schemed her way into marrying me and what makes it worse is that I thought really highly of you before that."
Tears burned behind my eyes. I blinked them back. "It wasn't a scheme. I loved you. I've loved you since college and I love you now. I wanted to marry you because—"
"Because I guess you finally saw the bank account. You found out I was rich and wanted a safe haven." His voice dropped colder. "Your family was drowning in debt and you found an escape. I could've helped. A check. A loan maybe. Anything. Instead you played the long game. We were friends, Char. Real friends. And you turned it into this."
Gold-digger. The word hung unspoken, but I could feel that he was implying it. Four years , that is how long I have devoted myself to loving this guy, of trying hard to show him how much this marriage meant to me, of waking up alone, of folding his shirts while he stayed at motels or the office, of pretending the silence and absence didn't crush me. How did I not notice he resented me so much? Was I truly blinded by love?
"Every woman who has ever approached me was so much better than you. You know why?," he said, voice shaking. "Because at least they were honest about what they wanted from me. Money, status, my name. They didn't pretend to care"
"And I wasn't? I care about you and love you, I love you" I repeated, softer. The truth I'd buried under perfect-wife acts. "That's why I stayed, that is why I am still here fighting because I know we can make this work.Hoping and Knowing one day you'd see me. Really see me."
"I see you." He turned away, shoulders rigid. "I see a woman who used my mother's fear of me dying alone to get what she wanted. And honestly I'm done."
The room tilted. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought it might break them. "Then say it. Tell me what you want me to do so I can make it better. Make us better Ben."
He looked back at me, eyes flat. "I want out."
"What? "
" Don't act like you don't know what I mean. I want this over."
The words were quiet. Final. No shouting. Just the truth.
The air refused to come. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to hold the pieces together. Sobs clawed up my throat. I didn't know what to do with my hands, dry my tears, cover my mouth,pull at my hair,.
"Okay. If that is what you want then okay." I said without looking at him.
" It is what I want."
I turned and walked out of the dining room, heels clicking on the marble floors.
In our bedroom, my bedroom, really, since he hadn't slept here in months I slid down the wall. Knees up to my chest supporting my head and cried until my throat burned. He didn't follow me. I thought he would come in worried about me but he didn't. He really hated being married to me and I think my brain was finally comprehending that my efforts weren't enough to make him love me back.
I heard the front door close softly. Probably back to the motel. Or the office. Anywhere but here. I always wondered what he did there. Other women? But he wasn't the type to do that. UHe didn't love me, sure but he was not a cheater. That I believed.
After what felt like forever, maybe an hour, maybe two, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. Fingers trembling, I dialed Micah. One of my best friends and my lawyer.
He answered on the second ring. "Char? It's late. You alright?"
Through broken breaths, I forced the words out. "I need the best divorce attorney you know, Mic. It's over."
A pause. Then, gently: "Okay. I…. um….Yea I've got you. First thing tomorrow, I'll send a name and we'll file, don't worry. How are you doing with it?"
"I feel like I just got my heart ripped out Mic."
I hung up not feeling like talking about it. The phone slipped from my hand.
Is this what wanting to die felt like?
In the empty penthouse, the candles still burned on the untouched dinner table.
I closed my eyes.
Tomorrow, I'll pack. Tomorrow, I'll walk away.
And maybe just maybe he'd finally realize what he'd thrown away.
But I wasn't waiting around to find out.