The Unsaid Goodbye

1
For three hours, I stood at a bus stop in a torrential downpour, waiting for Hugh. He never showed.
Just as I was about to give up and call a car, I saw the message hed sent five minutes earlier: Something came up. Cant make it.
A second later, his assistant posted a photo to her Instagram story. The familiar dashboard of his car.
The caption read: *Thanks for the ride home, boss! ~*
The old me would have blown up his phone, calling and texting, demanding an explanation.
But now? I just tapped the screen and liked her post.
Later, when I packed my bags and left without a word, he would fall apart, searching for me like a madman.
He would beg, "I can change. Just don't leave me."

A once-in-a-decade storm hit the city. After work, my colleagues left one by one, until I was the only one left, finishing up a report.
A text from Hugh lit up my screen. [The rains pretty bad. Ill come get you.]
I knew it was an olive branch.
Last weekend was our wedding anniversary. Id booked our favorite restaurant, but he never arrived. I waited until they were closing, and only then did I see the post from his assistant, Jenna. A photo of Hugh, his chiseled profile sharp in the dim restaurant lighting.
The caption: *Happiest birthday ever. Thanks for the treat, boss! ~*
When he finally came home, I showed him the picture. He just impatiently pushed my hand away. "She's a young girl, all alone in the city on her birthday. What's wrong with me, as her boss, showing a little concern? Stop making a scene! We can celebrate our anniversary any other year, can't we?"
He was right. We could celebrate it any other year. But couldn't she do the same for her birthday?
We hadn't spoken since. Today was the tenth day.
In the past, I would have been the one scheming for a way to make up. A message like this from him would have sent me over the moon.
Now, I felt nothing. I simply replied, [Okay.]
We had agreed on six. The curb in front of my office was a no-parking zone, so I walked to the bus stop down the street to wait.
By nine, the rain was coming down in sheets. Even huddled under the awning, the storm had soaked the cuffs of my pants.
And still, no Hugh.
I pulled out my phone to call an Uber and saw the notification. A new post from someone I had on 'close friends.'
It was Jenna. The picture of his dashboard. That limited-edition modelthere were only two in the entire city, and one of them was his. Hanging from the rearview mirror was the good luck charm Id gotten from a little chapel upstate last year.
Hed scoffed when I put it there. "This thing is hideous. It clashes with my car's interior."
I had to beg him just to let it stay.
Remembering that, a sudden sense of release washed over me. I liked the post.
He wasn't coming. The rideshare app showed over a hundred people in the queue ahead of me. I glanced down at my damp clothes and turned toward the bike share rack instead.
Hugh wasn't home when I got there.
I took a scalding hot shower and chugged a packet of cold medicine, but as I drifted off to sleep, I could already feel a dizzying fever setting in.
I was woken sometime later by the sound of the front door opening.
Hugh was home.
He must have been surprised to find me asleep already. He walked to the side of the bed and just stood there. I could feel his gaze on me, but I felt too sick to move, so I didn't.
After a moment, his footsteps retreated, followed by the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. The low hum was like a lullaby, and I drifted back into a heavy sleep.
When my alarm went off the next morning, my head was spinning. I fumbled for my phone, unable to turn it off immediately.
Hugh let out an irritated "tsk," and the sound finally jolted me awake.
I was burning up. My head throbbed, but I had to lead a major meeting today. I dragged my aching body out of bed and got ready for work.
When I got to the office, a coworker saw my flushed face and rushed over, pressing a hand to my forehead before fetching me some fever reducers and a cooling patch.
A text from Hugh came through. [Are you mad at me?]
I didn't understand.
[Then why didn't you make me breakfast?]
Ever since we got married, Id made his breakfast every single morning, even during our cold wars. Not that he ever ate it.
This morning, in my feverish haze, I had forgotten. But his tone, so matter-of-fact, like he was ordering a servant around, made my brow furrow.
I typed back a simple reply. [Forgot. Get something on your way.]
I was buried in work for the rest of the day and didn't look at my phone again. Just before closing time, another message appeared. [I'll pick you up.]
I didnt argue. I agreed.
But after waiting downstairs for half an hour, his car was nowhere in sight.
My phone rang. It was Hugh.
"Are you downstairs?"
I scanned the street. "I'm right by the entrance. I don't see you."
He let out a heavy sigh on the other end. I knew that sound. It was the sound he made when he was losing his patience with me, his jaw tight as he tried to rein in his frustration. He was probably trying to make up for last night, so he reined in his temper and asked, his voice strained, "Did they change the main entrance?"
A suspicion began to form in my mind. "Are you at the Sterling Building?"
His voice rose, laced with indignation. "Of course I am! You think I don't know where you work?"
He didn't. Our company had moved to a new office two blocks away from the Sterling Building last year. I had sent him the new address. He'd never even read it.
"It's fine," I said, my voice flat. "I'll get home on my own. It's all one-way streets around there, it'll be a nightmare for you to get over here."
He was silent for a moment, then hung up.
When I walked through the door, Hugh was already sitting on the sofa.
It was a rare sight. Usually, I was the one who got home first, the one who cooked dinner and waited for him. More often than not, the food would go cold, and he still wouldn't be home. When he finally walked in, I would complain, and he would just look at me with cold eyes.
"Do you think my whole world revolves around you? Can't you just eat by yourself?"
"But the food is cold"
"If it's cold, throw it out. Are you really going to start a fight over something so small?"
So I learned to stop saying anything. Id pack his portion away in a warmer, eat my own dinner alone, and then sit in the living room and wait.
Tonight, however, he actually got up as I walked in.
He followed me as I took off my coat, explaining, "Sandra, I've just been so busy, my head's a mess. I didn't mean to go to the wrong place."
"It's fine," I said, shrugging off my jacket.
He studied my face, then added, "And about yesterday it was late, and the storm was terrible. Jenna lives so far away and when we got there, her power was out, so I just helped her fix the breaker."
I nodded, my voice neutral. "Okay."
"Are you angry?"
I looked up at him, genuinely confused. "No."
That seemed to be the confirmation he needed. His careful expression hardened into accusation. "Yes, you are. I explained everything, and you're still acting like this. You didn't even make breakfast, and now you're giving me the cold shoulder!"
It dawned on me then. The old me would have had a complete meltdown over the last two days. Scenes like this had played out countless times over our four-year marriage. And every single time, he would stand back and watch me, silent, as if I were some unhinged actress in a bad play.
Looking back, I must have looked pathetic. No wonder he never wanted to come home.
But right now, I truly felt no anger. I was just exhausted from working a full day while sick.
"If that's all, I'm going to take a bath."
He stepped closer. "I'll join you."
"No, thanks. I have a cold. I don't feel well." I pulled my arm from his grasp and went straight into the bathroom.
A moment later, I heard the front door slam shut. He was gone again.
And so, another cold war began.
Before, these silences would have sent me into a panic. I'd be a nervous wreck, constantly looking for an excuse to break the tension, like "accidentally" sending him a message and then quickly deleting it. He rarely responded. He never asked what the deleted message said. If I called, he wouldn't answer. My work would suffer as I obsessed over how to fix things, counting the minutes until I could go home.
But now? I felt a profound sense of relief.
Being sick, all I wanted was a good night's sleep, but Hugh's late-night returns always woke me up. Now, he was sleeping in the guest room, and I could sleep through the night. I stopped cooking dinner for him. He wouldn't eat it anyway.
The project I was leading was entering its most critical phase. I started grabbing breakfast on the go and eating dinner at the office before staying a little later to work. It saved me so much time. I threw myself completely into my work, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.
Ever since we got married, my entire world had revolved around Hugh. Id text him constantly, asking what he was doing, telling him I missed him, that I loved him. He rarely replied, but I never stopped. I hardly ever worked late, always rushing home to cook. But he was always busyeither with work or with friends. I could count on one hand the number of times a month he was home for dinner.
Now that he was no longer the center of my universe, my life felt lighter. My work improved dramatically.
When the project finally wrapped up successfully, I let out a huge sigh of relief. I opened up my social media for the first time in weeks, only then remembering I had unfollowed Jenna.
Curiosity got the better of me.
Sure enough, while Hugh and I were in our "cold war," he had been by her side. They went camping at the beach. She'd gone to a party with him and his closest friends.
He looked so happy.
The old me would have been on the phone immediately, screaming at him. He would offer a half-hearted explanation, then grow irritated with my "melodrama," and the fight would end with him storming out of the house.
But now, looking at these photos, so clearly meant to provoke me, I felt absolutely nothing.
I even had the presence of mind to go through and like every single one.
Because of the project's success, the company was offering me a promotion. The new position was in B City. I had been hesitant, but now, my mind was made up.
Leaving the office that evening, I was surprised to see Hugh waiting outside.
"I had a meeting nearby," he said by way of explanation.
I opened the passenger door, and there was Jenna.
Her smile was sickly sweet. "Sandra! Long time no see. I was just having dinner with Hugh, and he's giving me a ride home. You don't mind, do you?"
I smiled back. "Not at all."
I closed the passenger door and opened the one behind it, sliding into the back seat.
Hugh got in and looked back, confused. He hesitated, then explained, "Jenna gets carsick. It's better for her in the front."
I just nodded.
He glanced at me again, then turned back to the wheel, a frown creasing his forehead. He must have been baffled. I rarely rode in his car, but whenever I did, I was always in the passenger seat. I had once declared it "the wife seat." He'd rolled his eyes, calling me dramatic. "It's just a seat," he'd said. "What's the difference?"
I just wanted to be next to him. That was the only difference.
Jenna chattered away in the front, talking about people and projects at his company. I didn't know any of them and couldn't get a word in, so I just closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.
I must have drifted off, because I was startled when Jenna turned around to ask me, "Sandra, how come you didn't come to Dave's birthday party the other night?"
Dave's birthday? I opened my eyes.
No one had invited me.
"I didn't know he was having one," I said softly.
Jenna feigned surprise. "Really? But you know how close he and Hugh are."
I just smiled and said nothing.
Dave and Hugh were like brothers. Last month, when Hugh got back from an international trip, he hadn't come home. He'd gone straight from the airport to go stargazing with Jenna in the mountains. When Id called Dave, frantic, hed covered for his friend. He didn't know I'd already seen Jenna's post. That fight had ended with me in tears and Hugh checking into a hotel for three days.
After Jenna spoke, Hugh glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his expression guilty.
I ignored him and closed my eyes again.
The takeout I ordered arrived at the same time we did.
I changed my clothes and sat down to eat. Hugh came out of the bathroom and asked, "Where's mine?"
I looked up, surprised. "I thought you already ate."
His face froze for a second. He sat down across from me, looking like he wanted to say something. The old me would have immediately asked what was wrong. Now, I just wanted to enjoy my food in peace.
Finally, he spoke. "About Dave's birthday we were still fighting, so I"
I cut him off. "It's a small thing. It's in the past. Let's just drop it."
A flicker of shock crossed his face. He had said those exact words to me more than once. Most recently, at dinner with Dave, when I'd asked Dave why hed lied to me. Dave had looked at Hugh, then back at me with a smirk. "Sandra, I was just trying to keep the peace, you know?" When I tried to press the issue, Hugh had snapped, "It was weeks ago. Are you ever going to let it go?"
After dinner, Hugh showed no signs of leaving.
I took the opportunity to pull the divorce papers my lawyer had drawn up from my bag.
He glanced at the heading and let out a bitter, angry laugh.
"What is this? Threatening divorce again?"
He threw the papers on the floor at my feet. I picked them up and held them out to him again.
"I'm serious."
"Do you get some kind of sick pleasure out of all this drama?"
I didn't say another word. Anything more would just lead to another screaming match.
He slammed the door on his way out.
I didn't care where he went or what he did. I calmly placed the papers on his desk in the study and went back to browsing real estate listings for B City.
Hugh didn't come home that night. I was glad to have the place to myself.
The next day, he was there to pick me up after work again.
I didn't refuse. It was a luxury I hadn't been afforded in years; no point in being difficult about it now.
I opened the back door and got in.
A strange expression crossed Hugh's face. "Sandra, why are you sitting back there?"
I looked at him, confused. "It's just a seat. What's the difference?"
"Just come sit up front."
I shrugged and moved to the passenger seat.
Something hard was digging into my hip. I pulled it out. It was a tube of lipstick.
Hugh immediately started stammering. "That must be Jenna's. She's so careless, always leaving things behind" His voice trailed off as he saw the look on my face.
I held it out to him. "Then make sure you give it back to her. That brand is expensive."
"I swear, I didn't know it was there There's nothing going on between us"
I cut him off. "Hugh. It doesn't matter."
"What?"
"I said, it doesn't matter. Whether there's something going on with you and Jenna I don't really care anymore."
The color drained from his face. I turned to look out the window, ending the conversation.
From that day on, Hugh started picking me up every day. He stopped going out with his friends. And every day, I would leave a fresh, signed copy of the divorce agreement on the coffee table in the living room. He acted like he didn't see it, and I didn't press him. It was inevitable. If I seemed too eager, he would just accuse me of playing games, of trying to manipulate him.
One day, as soon as I got in the car, Hugh said, "We got Dave's nephew into that school. He wants to take us to dinner to say thank you."
Dave's nephew had been trying to get into a prestigious international kindergarten. I happened to know the director, so Dave had asked me for a favor. If he hadn't mentioned it, I would have completely forgotten.
At the restaurant, Dave handed me a glass of wine. "Sandra, you're a lifesaver. My sister has been stressing about this for months."
I smiled and accepted the glass, though I didn't drink. "It was no big deal."
Before our appetizers arrived, a familiar face appeared.
"I thought I recognized your voices!" Jenna said, walking over to our table. "Hugh! Dave! Fancy seeing you here." Then, as if she'd only just noticed me, her smile tightened. "Oh. Sandra's here too."
She turned back to Hugh, her voice taking on a whiny, girlish tone. "My friend bailed on me. Can I join you guys? Please?"
Hugh glanced at me, hesitating.
I smiled brightly. "Of course. The more the merrier."
Dave shot me a surprised look.
"Hugh, can you peel a crab for me?" Jenna asked, pouting. Then she looked at me. "I bet Hugh does this for you all the time, right, Sandra? Whenever we eat crab, he always says I'm too clumsy, so he just does it for me." She smiled sweetly. Anyone watching would have thought they were the couple.
I had asked Hugh to do that for me once, after seeing another woman's boyfriend do it for her. Hed just scoffed. "You're not a child. You have hands."
"But it's what other husbands do," I'd argued.
"Am I your servant? Can't you do it yourself?"
The table next to us had looked over, and Id shrunk in my seat, my face burning with shame. I never asked again.
I had no idea he was doing it for Jenna.
As she was about to say more, Hugh cut her off sharply. He turned to me, his voice low. "She doesn't really know how I just help her out sometimes"
I didn't look up from my plate. "Oh," I said, picking at my food. "Well, you should help her then."
My response clearly wasn't the one he wanted. His face darkened. In the end, he didn't peel a crab for anyone.
"Hugh" Jenna whined.
"There's plenty of other food," he snapped. "Eat something else."
That weekend, I took the train to B City to look at apartments.
I left early, while Hugh was still asleep.
I was standing outside a potential building when he called.
"Where are you?"
I didn't answer his question directly. "What's up?"
He seemed fixated on the answer. "I asked where you are."
I lied without thinking. "I'm at the office. Working overtime. Why?"
His voice was tight, like he was gritting his teeth. "I'm standing right outside your office building. I just asked the guard. No one is working today."
I simply went silent. He didn't hang up.

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