When We Were Us

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1.

I went downstairs to take out the trash.

That's when I saw it. A Cadillac Escalade, rocking hard.

In the passenger seat, my husband's management trainee was making out with some guy. Full-on.

I almost admired the audacity. Then I saw the man's hand resting on the window frame. A wedding band. Engraved.

C&M.

My name is Claire. My husband is Miles Morrow.

A cold wave of nausea rolled through my stomach.

So that's how it is.

A man can say he loves you while undressing in someone else's car.

I took an Uber to the county clerk's office.

"Ms. Morrow, are you sure you want to change your name? You'll need to update your degrees, your IDs, your passport. Everything."

I nodded. "I'm sure."

The clerk tried again. "Legal name changes are quite involved for adults. And your current name is lovely. Perhaps you'd like to think it over?"

"No."

I signed the consent form. "Please proceed."

"Alright. The requested name is Vera Rose. Correct?"

"Yes."

Vera. A new beginning.

Rose. Wild and resilient.

This was the identity I was giving myself.

Not Mrs. Morrow. Not anyone's wife.

Just me.

I asked the clerk, "Can I update my passport now?"

"Yes. Take this certified court order downstairs to the passport window. They'll handle it."

I changed my passport as fast as humanly possible.

Outside the clerk's office, the Chicago skyline stood directly across the street.

The giant screen on the building was playing an interview with Miles Morrow, CEO of Blackstone Group.

The host had picked up on his little habit. She smiled and asked, "Mr. Morrow, I notice you keep touching your ring. It looks like a simple platinum band. Is there something special about it?"

Miles smiled, soft and warm. He held up his hand. "It's my wedding ring."

"Oh! I apologize. I assumed someone of your stature would have a Harry Winston diamond. Several carats, at least."

Miles said, "I made this ring myself. Shaped it, polished it. I engraved our initials inside the band."

"Wow. I can see two sets of letters. M and"

"C. My wife's name is Claire."

"Wow. Your wife must be the luckiest woman alive. She must have saved the universe in a past life to marry a man like you."

Miles just said, "Actually, I'm the one who saved the universe to marry her."

The people around me were full of envy.

The only person who felt nothing?

Me.

I glanced at the screen. Once. Then I looked away.

Miles and I had been genuinely in love once. Fifteen years. High school to the altar.

In our classmates' eyes, we were the couple voted "most likely to last forever" in the yearbook.

Until two months ago.

I got a Snapchat from a stranger. A woman.

She looked barely twenty. She was wearing a seductive slip and stockings. Her neck and chest were covered in marks. Purple and red.

She'd clearly just come from a very active session.

She threw up a peace sign at the camera.

On her finger, she wore a platinum ring. A size too big. A man's ring.

Engraved with letters: M&C.

Later, I met the girl in Miles's office.

Her name was Brooklyn. Fresh out of Wharton. Twenty-one years old. The company's shiny new management trainee.

My mind went blank with a roar of static.

Management trainee. What a loaded title. This wasn't just an affair. It was an abuse of power. A sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to detonate. And he was completely oblivious.

I wanted to walk in and ask him: Is sleeping with the boss part of the employee benefits package now?

But I didn't.

That Snapchat told me everything I needed to know.

I walked away from the crowd and their sighs of envy. I went straight to a pawn shop.

When I pulled the ring off my left hand, it felt like peeling off a layer of skin.

"Ma'am, would you like to sell it or have it melted down?"

"This ring. Melt it."

"There's an engraving on it. It probably means something. Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes. Please do it quickly."

Half an hour later, I came home with a neatly wrapped jewelry box.

Miles didn't get back until after ten.

He was holding a bouquet. "Sorry, Claire. Work has been crazy. I brought you your favorite. Lily of the valley. Do you like them?"

He leaned in close. I caught the scent of a woman's perfume on him. YSL Black Opium.

I turned my head slightly. My eyes landed on a small bite mark on his Adam's apple.

And on the collar of his Brooks Brothers shirt. A lipstick stain. Bright red. Unmistakable.

I stared at that red smear. I didn't say a word.

So this was what "working late" looked like.

"Why aren't you saying anything?"

I pushed him away. "Just tired."

"Let me carry you to bed."

He bent down, ready to scoop me up.

I pushed him away again. "You're tired too. Take a shower. Get some rest."

Miles reached for my hand. Then he stopped. His expression shifted.

"Claire. Where's your ring?"

2.

"I took it off."

"I made that ring with my own hands. It's proof of our love. Why would you take it off?"

I gave him a flat excuse. "Keto diet. Water retention. It doesn't fit right now."

Miles's face relaxed. His smile returned. "I'll take it to Tiffany's to get resized."

"We'll see."

"What's that on the table?"

He pointed at the jewelry box. His expression lit up. "Claire, is that a gift for me?"

I nodded. "Yes."

Inside was a small platinum lump.

I had melted our wedding rings. I put the remains inside that box.

Miles was delighted. "What's the occasion? You never surprise me with gifts."

I felt nothing but a tired, cold disappointment.

"Today is our wedding anniversary."

Miles's face crumpled.

He scrambled to appease me. "Claire, I'm so sorry. The quarterly earnings have been brutal. How about we go out tonight? I can book a table at Alinea right now."

"No need. I already ate."

"Then let's go see the skyline. Walk by Lake Michigan?"

"I'm tired. I want to sleep."

Miles wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, his voice coaxing. "Come on, Claire. We haven't gone for a walk in so long. I feel like you've been distant lately. I'm starting to worry my Claire is losing interest."

I removed his hands from my body.

Fifteen years. A dull, distant ache. ThenDnothing.

He wanted cheap thrills. I wanted my dignity.

I was leaving. All of me. My heart, my body, my fifteen years, my reluctance to let go.

I was taking it all back. Now.

On the way out, Miles drove. He chattered about his day, trying to fill the silence.

I sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window. I wasn't listening.

Because when I was buckling my seatbelt, my fingers brushed against something wedged in the gap of the seat.

A woman's lace thong. Very clearly used.

I shoved it back where I found it. I pulled out my phone. I took a picture. Calmly.

Evidence collected.

Not because I planned to stay and endure this.

Because I had already decided to leave. Confronting him now would just be a waste of time.

He would lie. He would deflect. He would make excuses.

I was done listening to lies.

This was it.

We reached the lakefront. Miles got out first and opened my door. "We're here, Claire."

I hadn't wanted to come. But this lake was where we used to go when we first got together.

It started here. It could end here.

We were walking when I heard a girl whisper to her friend nearby. "Oh my god, it's that CEO... the one with the ring."

"So hot. And so, so sweet."

Miles heard it too. The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

Then his phone rang.

He gave me an apologetic look. "Sorry, Claire. Give me a minute. It's the board. I'll be right back."

"Go ahead."

"Wait for me right here. Don't wander off."

More hushed murmurs from the crowd around us.

I kept my face blank. I stood by the water and stared out at the dark, shimmering lake.

When Miles saw the caller ID, the grin he tried to suppress was unmistakable.

I knew that smile.

It wasn't the polite smile of a business call. It was the thrill of seeing his prey.

But I couldn't be bothered to expose him anymore.

It was cold by the water. I went back to the car to wait.

The car's display screen was still active. Miles's Apple CarPlay hadn't disconnected. His messages were still synced.

New texts were popping up, one after another.

The contact name was "Kitty B."

Miles: Miss me?

Kitty B: The nights feel so empty without you.

Miles: I didn't satisfy you enough at the office today, Kitty?

Kitty B: Not enough, Daddy. I want more.

Miles: Fine. Tomorrow. Work. My office. I'll make it up to you.

Kitty B: Hehehe. I'll wear the fishnets to work tomorrow.

The conversation spiraled from there. Unreadable. Filthy. Full of explicit language.

I stared at the screen. I felt a cold, clear wave of nausea.

Not heartbreak. That had shattered the moment I saw the ring.

This was disgust. Pure, physical revulsion.

I was trembling. My nails bit deep into my palms.

Miles was quick. About fifteen minutes.

He climbed back into the car, clutching his chest. He let out a deep breath. "I turned around after the call and you were gone. Scared me to death. Thank god you're okay."

I couldn't look at his sanctimonious face anymore. I stared down at my own hands.

"It was cold. I came back to the car."

"Yeah, of course. Wherever you're comfortable."

I looked up at him.

After reading those messages, that sentence hit differently.

Wherever you're comfortable.

The thong wedged in the passenger seat gap

Did that mean they had done it here? In this seat?

A wave of nausea hit me so hard I threw the door open and vomited.

3.

Miles panicked. He rushed to my side. "Claire! What's wrong?"

I heaved until there was nothing left. I couldn't pull myself together.

I didn't understand.

How could a man who loved me so much cheat on me?

Then I realized. He probably never thought there would be consequences.

He thought he could have both. The dutiful wife at home. The hot mistress on the side.

He thought I would never find out.

Or worse. He thought even if I did, I would swallow it.

The lake wind cleared my head.

Miles asked, "Are you okay, Claire? If you feel sick, I'll take you to Northwestern Memorial right now."

"No. Probably just something bad I ate. The salmon from Whole Foods might've been off."

"Then come meet me at the office tomorrow. We'll have lunch."

I almost laughed in his face.

Come to the office and watch you and Brooklyn going at it in your private suite?

A plan formed in my head.

I wanted to see it. I wanted to watch the performance with my own eyes.

"Sure. I'll come with you tomorrow morning. Keep you company at work. Then we'll have lunch. Then we'll come home together in the evening."

Miles clearly hadn't expected me to say yes. His expression flickered. "But I might be pretty busy. I might not be able to stay with you the whole time."

"You do your work. I'll wait for you in your office."

"...Alright."

Back home, Miles offered to run me a bath. He went into the master bathroom and closed the door behind him. Unusually.

I went back downstairs and got into the car.

The moment I started the engine, the latest messages popped up on the screen.

Miles: Change of plans. Office is off tomorrow.

Kitty B: Aww. Disappointing.

Miles: Don't be disappointed, Kitty. Daddy will take you to the rooftop. More exciting.

Kitty B: Hehehe. Daddy's the best.

I turned off the screen. There was no emotion left in my eyes.

Enjoy your rooftop, darling.

It's your last one.

I was back in the bedroom when Miles came out of the bathroom. "Claire, your bath is ready. Go take a nice soak."

"No. I just want to rest."

"Alright. If you're tired, sleep. Oh, that gift you left on the table. Can I open it now?"

I said, "Wait one week."

"Why a week? I want to see what my Claire got for me."

"Because"

Because in one week, I would be gone. Forever.

"Because it won't mean anything until a week from now."

Miles kissed me gently on the forehead. "Alright. Whatever you say."

The next morning, his phone started buzzing at six.

He silenced it and rolled over, holding me. "Ignore it. Sleep a little longer."

The phone kept buzzing. Insistent.

Miles frowned in irritation. "It's not even office hours yet. Damn useless middle management. I'm going to fire them all."

He silenced it again.

The third time it rang, he got up, fuming. "Go back to sleep, Claire. I'm going to find out what's so goddamn urgent."

I made a quiet sound of acknowledgment.

I turned over. My back to him.

He took the phone and left the bedroom.

Soon enough, I saw his figure at the front door downstairs.

A DoorDash driver in a purple shirt was handing him a package.

Miles took it. When he came back inside, his hands were empty.

I asked, "Was it serious? The company thing?"

He said, "It's fine. Nothing for you to worry about. Rest. I'll make you breakfast."

Whether it was guilt or genuine concern about my stomach, Miles went all out for breakfast.

Orange juice. Bacon. French toast. Maple syrup. And my favorite Greek yogurt with granola.

"You can't be careless about food anymore. I'll hire a housekeeper. Someone to cook for you every day."

"No."

"Be a good girl and let me handle it, Claire. Otherwise I'll be worried sick at work."

"Miles, can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

I set down my fork and asked him calmly. "The seven-year itch. Do you think it's real?"

Miles immediately put on a look of righteous disgust. "That's just an excuse weak men use to justify their infidelity. I'm not like that. I'll only ever love my Claire."

"Only me? Forever?"

"Yes."

"What if you fell in love with someone else?"

"Then the moment I betray her, may God strike me dead with lightning. May I burn in hell."

I looked at him. I said nothing.

"They're true words. Why would I be afraid?"

I picked up my fork again and spread jam on my toast.

Miles said, "Claire. Trust me."

I just said, "Eat your breakfast."

"You still don't believe me? Do I have to cut my heart out and show you?"

"The people at the office are waiting. Don't be late."

Miles finally relaxed. He sat down across from me. "Let them wait. A bunch of useless idiots. I'll fire them soon enough."

"Fire her. Would you be willing to do that?"

I said "her." Not "them."

I don't know if Miles caught it or not. He just said, "Apart from you, there's no one I can't bear to lose."

4.

After breakfast, we left for the office together.

But I couldn't stand the passenger seat. I insisted on sitting in the back.

"I've been feeling claustrophobic. The back is better. I can roll down the window."

Miles didn't push it. "Alright. I'll drive as smoothly as I can."

We pulled up to the office. Miles jogged around to open my door.

Getting out of the car, I was swarmed by employees in the morning rush. Again.

A couple of VPs even jogged over, fawning. "Mrs. Morrow is here! Mr. Morrow is always talking about how you love the Starbucks Pink Drink. I'll go grab you one right now."

Another one chimed in. "I'll handle snacks. Mrs. Morrow likes macarons."

Miles laughed and scolded them. "Don't you dare overfeed her. Claire's dealing with some water retention. Her ring doesn't even fit right now."

"You're wrong about that, Mr. Morrow. The lady looks very slim. If the ring doesn't fit, it's the ring's fault. It must have shrunk!"

"Oh, stop. Flattery is one thing, but that's ridiculous. Platinum doesn't shrink."

"You're the one who doesn't get it. Mr. Morrow loves his wife so much. If the wife is happy, Mr. Morrow is happy. And then we all have an easy day."

Miles laughed, playing along. "Fine, fine. You've all found my weak spot."

The crowd laughed with him.

I was practically carried by the wave of sycophants into Miles's office.

Fruit. Snacks. Pink Drink. The works.

Miles even pulled up a Netflix show on his Apple desktop for me. "Claire, I have to go work. Stay here and relax. If you need anything, just ask Jason outside."

I asked him deliberately, "What about your management trainee? Brooklyn? I didn't see her today."

Miles said, "I don't know. I'll have HR call and check."

Before he left, he stroked my hair and whispered, "Wait for me. We'll have lunch together."

Miles left.

The executives left.

I noticed he'd left his phone on the desk. I hurried out to return it. But I stopped when I heard the executives talking.

"...The rooftop? Mr. Morrow and Brooklyn are getting really wild."

"What can you do? Who knew the boss's wife was going to show up today? They had to switch locations."

"So do we still need to get condoms for Mr. Morrow today?"

"No. I saw him heading up earlier. He had several boxes stuffed in his pockets. Trojan."

"Heh heh heh. Mr. Morrow's impressive. Buying condoms right under his wife's nose?"

"DoorDash. So convenient these days. You can get anything delivered."

My footsteps stopped.

So those insistent phone calls this morning were from the delivery guy.

He ordered a condom delivery first thing in the morning.

He was really looking forward to that rooftop date. So well prepared.

"...Wonder if a few boxes will be enough. Last time, Mr. Morrow and Brooklyn went at it in the car for a whole day and night. The next day, Brooklyn was walking funny."

"If it's not enough, we'll just send more. As his subordinates, we gotta serve the boss well, right?"

"Didn't you just say we had to serve the boss's wife?"

"Please. What does she know? A Pink Drink and some snacks and she's handled. A man in Mr. Morrow's position who doesn't have a few women on the side? You just keep the wife in the dark."

"Yeah. She looks pretty naive. Shouldn't be hard."

I stood there. I heard every word.

I calmly pulled out my phone. I hit record.

This was good material.

Just then, Miles appeared.

He swept a cold, slow look across the group. His voice dropped, low and dangerous. "Not a word in front of Claire. Understood?"

The executives nodded furiously. "Got it, Mr. Morrow. We know what's up."

One of them asked, "Mr. Morrow, why'd you bring your wife in today? You and Brooklyn have to hide on the rooftop now. We all have to watch what we say."

Miles shot him a hard look. "Claire is the boss's wife. She goes where she wants. Are you questioning it?"

"No, no, no"

Miles issued another warning. "Take care of Claire. Her stomach was upset yesterday. No cold food. And if anyone breathes a word about me and Brooklyn, you're out on the street. Clear?"

The executives beamed their fake smiles and nodded.

I didn't hear the rest.

I was already back in Miles's office. I placed his phone among the pile of snacks.

A few minutes later, Miles came in.

He was back to his gentle-gentleman act. "My little greedy cat. What are you eating that's got you so happy?"

"Little greedy cat." The phrase sent a wave of revulsion through me.

That was what he called Brooklyn.

I pushed down the nausea and asked, "Weren't you at a meeting? Why are you back?"

"Left my phone here. Have you seen it?"

I shook my head. "No."

Miles rummaged through the snack pile and fished it out. "Buried in the snacks. Alright, you keep eating. I'm off."

Ring ringD

My phone went off this time.

I picked it up.

"Hello. Am I speaking to Ms. Vera Rose?"

"Yes. This is she."

"Ms. Rose, this is a confirmation for your flight to Norway booked for one week from today. Your ticket has been issued. You just need to bring your passport to the airport."

"Just the passport? Any other documentation needed?"

"No. Your passport is sufficient."

"Thank you."

I hung up. Miles looked confused. "Passport? Claire, what do you need your passport for?"

5.

I said, "A friend of mine. She lost her passport. She was asking how to get a replacement."

Miles came over and wrapped me in a hug. "You scared me to death. I thought you were planning a trip to Europe. Without me."

His scent hit me. My stomach lurched.

Heavy musk.

And a woman's vanilla perfume.

I turned my head and threw up again.

Miles patted my back, his voice full of concern. "What did they feed you? I specifically told them your stomach was off. I told them to look after you Just wait. I'm going to fire them all right now!"

I pushed him away. I put every ounce of strength into it.

"Fire whoever you want! Just stop using me as your excuse!"

My sudden outburst caught him off guard. "Claire. Are you mad at me? Because I've been buried in work and haven't kept you company?"

He said, "Alright. Tomorrow I'll cancel everything. I'll spend the whole day with you. Okay?"

I took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. "I hope you mean that."

That night, a thunderstorm rolled in out of nowhere.

From the moment I got home, I kept throwing up.

Miles tried to get close to me. I shoved him back hard. "Don't come near me. Your smell makes me sicker."

Miles sniffed his sleeve. "Maybe it's my Tom Ford cologne. You don't like it. I'll switch to a different one."

"Miles. You know damn well it's not the cologne."

"Alright, alright. Don't be upset. I won't wear any cologne at all from now on. Okay?"

I splashed cold water on my face and looked up at the mirror.

And at the man outside the bathroom, holding a glass of warm water, waiting anxiously.

I just didn't understand.

How could he stand there, reeking of another woman, and still play the devoted husband so flawlessly?

Did he actually believe his own lies?

Or had he just never considered me a person with a working brain?

Probably the latter.

He underestimated me.

His mistake.

And that mistake was about to cost him everything.

The next morning, Miles took me to Northwestern Memorial.

After a series of tests, the doctor gave his assessment. "It appears to be anxiety-induced IBS."

Miles asked, "What do you mean, anxiety-induced IBS?"

"The patient has recently experienced a significant emotional shock. The impact has been severe enough to cause gastrointestinal dysfunction. That's what's triggering the vomiting."

Miles turned to me. "Claire, has something been bothering you lately? Tell me. Maybe I can fix it."

I turned my face away, avoiding his proximity. "You can't fix it."

"Try me. There's very little in this world I can't handle."

Yeah.

He was the only one who could fix this.

For a split second, I wanted to ask him. If Brooklyn and I were both drowning in Lake Michigan, who would he save first?

Then I dropped it.

Stupid question.

I shouldn't put my fate in anyone else's hands.

I can swim.

I can save myself.

I don't need Miles.

I don't need anyone.

In Norway, I had applied to RISD under the name Vera Rose.

I had given up my dream of painting to marry Miles. From now on, I was going to live for myself.

"Claire, how about I take you to see a Broadway show this afternoon? Hamilton is playing. It'll cheer you up."

"This afternoon? Don't you have work?"

"We agreed. I'm yours all day today. I keep my promises. I never go back on my word."

A second later, his phone rang.

He moved to silence it. Then he glanced at the caller ID. He paused.

I watched his expression shift in real time. Annoyance. Then conflict.

I smiled. "Take it. Work comes first."

Miles said, "I'll be quick. Five minutes."

"Mm."

He moved to take the call outside. I stopped him. "Take it here. I can't follow your business talk anyway. No need to worry about leaks."

Miles froze. Awkward.

Two seconds of hesitation. He picked up. His brow furrowed with anger. "Didn't I tell you not to call me today? What is it?"

I couldn't make out the words on the other end.

But I caught the sound of a woman crying.

Miles spoke carefully, aware of my presence. "Alright. I understand. Hold on."

He hung up. He turned to me, his voice full of apology. "Claire, the CFO is bringing a critical M&A document for my signature. He's downstairs at the hospital. I'll sign and come right back. Half an hour. Tops."

I nodded.

Miles practically ran out of the exam room.

The doctor smiled. "Mrs. Morrow, your husband adores you. Dropping everything for you like this."

"Is that so." I forced a smile. "Excuse me, doctor. Restroom."

"Of course."

I stepped out. I saw Miles, too impatient for the elevator, sprinting down the stairs.

He did go downstairs.

One floor down.

Obstetrics and Gynecology.

BuzzD

My phone vibrated.

Brooklyn: Claire, I'm so sorry. I don't think he'll be able to spend the day with you after all. One call from me, and he comes running.

6.

Brooklyn's messages kept pouring in.

Brooklyn: Oh, and look at this. [Image] My ultrasound. I'm pregnant.

I zoomed in on the photo and read the top line.

Embryo 8 weeks. Threatened miscarriage.

Brooklyn: We went at it on the rooftop yesterday. So many times. Tried every position. Guess it was a little too rough. The baby's showing signs of distress. Oops. His fault, really. He said sex with you at home was boring. He wanted something exciting with me.

Brooklyn: The doctor says whether I keep it or terminate, the baby's father needs to sign the consent form. So I had to call him down. I mean, between your stomach flu and his child the child is a little more important. Don't you think?

I took a cab. Alone.

I went to a family law firm.

"I need to retain your firm to draft a divorce agreement."

I wanted nothing. The lawyer was efficient.

Half an hour. I had the complete agreement in my hands.

The lawyer told me, "My recommended strategy is this. We file under irreconcilable differences. In Illinois, if you move out and establish independent residence for six months, the court will have a very hard time dismissing your petition. These six months are the legal countdown to your freedom."

I was walking out with the divorce papers when my phone rang. Miles.

"Claire! Where are you? I've searched the whole hospital."

I said, "I waited so long you didn't come back. So I went home."

"Good. As long as you got home safe. I'm sorry, Claire. Something came up with work. I might need to go out of town for a few days. New York. Take good care of yourself at home. Next week. I swear I'll clear everything next week. Just for you."

I let out a heavy sigh.

A lie told a thousand times isn't believable anymore.

But I didn't need to believe anything anymore.

I just needed to leave.

"Yeah. Go."

"My Claire is so understanding. Be good. Tomorrow I'll be back with your lily of the valley."

"Understanding?" I asked. "Miles, is that what you like? Women who pout and cling and won't let go? Am I too understanding? Am I boring?"

Miles paused. "Of course not. I love you. Whatever you are, I love."

"Miles. Will you ever fall in love with someone else?"

"Of course not."

"Then let me tell you something." I gripped my phone. My voice was calm. Cold. "If you betray me, I will disappear. Completely. You will never find me."

Miles let out a soft laugh. "Alright. Try it. I can lock down O'Hare and Union Station. As long as your name is still Claire, you can't leave me."

But my passport didn't say Claire anymore.

It said Vera Rose.

I repeated myself. "I'm serious. I will leave so clean you won't find a single trace."

Miles was still laughing. Like he was teasing a cat. "Fine. Run. I'll give you three days. Then I'll come find you. I told you. As long as your name is Claire, I can find you wherever you go. You can't shake me off."

Can't shake him off?

I smiled.

Watch me.

7.

Three days until my flight.

Brooklyn sent a photo. Miles, barbecuing on a beach in the Hamptons.

Brooklyn: To celebrate me carrying his baby, he's treating me to a Hamptons getaway. He says pregnancy is hard, so I should just lie back and be fed.

I didn't reply. I met up with a few close friends instead. One last gathering. Afternoon tea at the Ritz-Carlton.

I might not get to see them again after this.

I enjoyed that afternoon.

Two days until my flight.

Brooklyn sent another photo. Miles reading a book. What to Expect When You're Expecting.

Brooklyn: The new daddy is so invested in the baby's education. It's still just a little bean in my belly and he's already talking to it every day.

I still didn't reply. I went to Chase. I converted every dollar into euros. Cash. Then I closed all my accounts.

One day until my flight.

Brooklyn sent a TikTok video.

A romantic fireworks display over the ocean.

Brooklyn was crying, moved to tears. Miles held her, gentle. "Why are you crying? There's more surprises to come."

Brooklyn: He rented out Martha's Vineyard for me. Bought out every firework on the East Coast. Just for my birthday.

So today was Brooklyn's birthday.

A birthday and a pregnancy. Double celebration for the happy couple.

I watched it. I let out a faint smile. Then I called the local Salvation Army.

"Hello. I have a batch of clothing to donate to a women's shelter."

A representative arrived quickly.

While Miles was away, I had packed everything. Five large bags of clothes and shoes. I donated all of it. Not a single piece left.

As for my driver's license, my social security card, my diplomasDall the things that belonged to "Claire"DI put them in a safe deposit box. I left the key next to the letter for Miles.

Let him open it himself.

I was returning his "Claire." Unopened. Untouched.

Standing in the house I'd lived in for five years, it felt foreign to me.

I had scrubbed it clean. Not a trace of Claire left.

I had one backpack.

Inside was my passport.

The only old thing I still had was my phone.

I used it to call a Lyft to O'Hare.

The driver pulled up at the terminal. I was about to pay when my phone rang. Miles.

"Claire, I'm back from my trip. I'm coming home to pick you up. Let's go to Gibson's for dinner."

He was back.

Brooklyn was with him.

I sat in the car and watched them walk out of the terminal.

Miles was pushing a luggage cart with two Rimowa suitcases. One silver, one rose gold. Clearly a matching set.

Brooklyn clung to his arm, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Was the trip exhausting?"

"Not too bad. Hey, you said today I could open your gift. Right?"

"Yes."

"I can't wait. You made me wait a whole week. I've been guessing every day. It's our anniversary, so it has to be something meaningful, right?"

"Very meaningful. You'll understand when you see it."

"Good. Wait for me. I'll be home in about two hours."

Two hours was plenty.

By then, my flight would be over the Canadian border.

"Okay."

"See you soon. Love you, Claire."

I hung up. I saw Brooklyn pout. Miles leaned down and kissed her on the lips. Soothing her.

The driver nudged me. "Ma'am, your fare."

I looked away. I scanned his Venmo code. I transferred every last dollar in my account.

The driver saw the amount. He panicked. "Ma'am, you made a mistake. It's thirty-five dollars. Not thirty-five hundred! Let me send it back."

"No need." I opened the door. "I won't need it where I'm going. Consider it a tip. Thank you for bringing me here."

"It's no trouble. It's my job. You paid the fare. Of course I brought you."

"It's different. You brought me to the road that leads to my future."

I got out. I turned off my phone. I popped out the SIM card and tossed it into a trash can. Then I gave the phone to a nearby kid.

The boy was delighted. "Thank you, lady!"

I smiled and ruffled his hair. "You're welcome."

His mother looked embarrassed. "This is too expensive. We can't accept this."

I asked, "Are you traveling abroad?"

"Yes. We're going to Kenya. To find his father."

I smiled. "Then take it. You might need it in Africa."

"Alright. Thank you."

I waved goodbye. "Safe travels."

The intercom crackled. "Passenger Vera Rose, please proceed to gate H23 immediately. Your flight is now boarding"

I gripped my passport. I looked back one last time. Then I turned and walked toward the gate.