Lucas stood beside her, brow furrowed, his expression outwardly calm,
yet betraying a trace of unease.
The air hung silent for several seconds.
The kettle in the kitchen kept boiling softly.
While they said nothing, I untied my apron, turned around, and left.
My footsteps were light, yet carried a weight of finality I hadn’t felt
in years.
Back in the bedroom, I leaned against the door and took a deep breath.
The divorce would take effect in a week.
Seven days—
after that, I would no longer be Mrs. Lucas.
I picked up my phone and scrolled through rental listings, one after
another.
Old apartments on the edge of town, single rooms, shared flats…
Each title looked like an escape route, a map leading out of this life.
Just then, Lucas’s voice came from outside the door—low, cold.
“I’m going to the office this afternoon. Kendall will stay here. My body
hasn’t fully recovered—you’ll take care of me.”
I looked up, my tone so even it barely carried emotion.
“Take care of you? Are you sure I’m your maid… or your nurse?”
He hadn’t expected me to answer that way. His face changed slightly.
“Have you forgotten,” he said after a pause, voice heavy with warning,
“who allows you to still live here?”