The Thirty-Day Lie

The day we filed for divorce, Michael showed up at the county courthouse with his cousin.

I didn’t fight with him, not like I used to. I was silent through the entire process, just handing over documents and signing my name where I was told.

As we were leaving, I overheard him comforting her.

"Evelyn, don't blame yourself for this," he said, his voice a low murmur. "She won't actually go through with it. Honestly, I've spoiled her these past few years. This will be good for her. A little time to cool off, get some perspective. Otherwise, it’s going to be impossible for you and Leo down the road."

Evelyn sighed, a delicate, theatrical sound. "Michael, maybe I should just take Leo and move out. What if a month from now she's still angry? What if this becomes real? I'd feel like the villain in your story."

A soft, dismissive chuckle from Michael.

"Impossible," he said. "She's just leveraging the thirty-day cooling-off period to threaten me. You wait and see. When the final day comes, Chloe won't even show up."

"Well, if you're sure…"


1

It was a blustery day. When Evelyn stepped out of the car, the wind caught her, making her stagger. She stumbled right into Michael’s arms.

He reached out instinctively, his hand settling on her shoulder to steady her. He smiled down, about to say something to the woman in his arms, when he saw me walking around the corner.

In an instant, his expression froze over. His voice, when it came, was laced with ice.

"Chloe, don't start. I was just catching her, that's all. We're at the courthouse, for God's sake. Think about how this looks…"

"Let's just go inside," I said, cutting him off and walking past them toward the entrance.

He seemed taken aback. He was used to a different reaction from me. In the past, a scene like this would have been the opening act of a long, bitter opera of accusations and angry tears.

A moment later, I heard his familiar sigh behind me. He must have decided this was just another part of my act.

We sat in the waiting area, Michael across from me with Evelyn at his side. He watched me, his brow furrowed.

"I had to take Leo for his entrance interview at the private school," he said, his tone flat and defensive. "I gave them a ride since it was on the way. It’s not some ridiculous power play, Evelyn isn't trying to send you a message."

Evelyn shot him a look, a pantomime of gentle reproach. "Michael, you're always so kind when you talk to me. Why is your tone so harsh with Chloe? Just be quiet for a minute."

Michael pressed his lips into a thin line and said nothing.

"Chloe," Evelyn said, turning her warm, placid smile on me. "I came today because I wanted to talk you out of this. We're family. I don't hold any of your past misunderstandings against you. Marriage is hard work. Please don't throw it all away on an impulse."

She had one of those effortlessly elegant faces, and she spoke with a slow, deliberate cadence that projected an image of gentle, intellectual sincerity.

I didn't answer. I just looked past her, my eyes fixed on the digital display on the wall. Number 9 was being served. I was number 12. Three more to go. At fifteen minutes per appointment, that was another forty-five minutes.

I counted the seconds in my head.

2

"Chloe, can you stop being so childish?" Michael’s voice was sharp now. "Evelyn is my cousin. The least you could do is show her a little respect. An attitude like this makes everyone uncomfortable."

My gaze drifted from the screen back to the two of them. His eyes were filled with that same exhausted, accusatory look I had become so familiar with lately.

Beside him, Evelyn gave a sad little smile and turned her head slightly away. She was a master of wordless performance, of letting her silence speak volumes.

"Then you should probably comfort your cousin," I said, my voice devoid of emotion.

A flash of anger crossed Michael's face. "There you go again," he said, his voice low and strained, a man trying to keep a lid on his temper. "Always attacking Evelyn. Chloe, everyone has to pay a price for their own willfulness. If you push things too far, you might not get a chance to take it back." The last words were heavy with warning.

I looked at him, really looked at him. He was handsome, undeniably so. Tall, well-built, with a deep, resonant voice. He had the kind of looks you couldn’t find fault with.

I used to joke about it during our arguments. "Fine, fine," I'd say, "I'll let it go, but only because you're too handsome to stay mad at."

Sometimes, when the graveyard shifts at the hospital wrecked my sleep schedule, I’d have him talk to me in the dark, his voice a steady anchor that would let me drift off.

Now, I lifted my index finger to my lips.

"Shh," I whispered. "We're in a public place. No shouting."

His voice hadn't been that loud.

But I wanted the quiet.

…

The process was smooth. I barely spoke, just calmly submitted the paperwork, signed the forms, gave my fingerprints.

The divorce agreement was simple. Four years of marriage, no children. His family's corporation was his, untouchable. The house, the cars, the stocks we’d acquired since the wedding—all split down the middle.

I remembered the day I’d handed it to him. I was on the sofa in the living room as he was taking Evelyn and Leo to visit his father, who was lost in the fog of Alzheimer's. He’d glanced at it, scrawled his signature without breaking stride, and slammed the door behind him.

Today was the same. He didn’t read a word, just signed and turned to leave, treating it with the casual disinterest of a game he never took seriously.

Outside the courthouse, the wind was still whipping through the streets. A carpet of autumn leaves had plastered itself to my car. As I was patiently clearing them from the windshield, I heard Michael's voice, carried on the wind.

He was comforting Evelyn again.

"Evelyn, don't blame yourself for this. She won't actually go through with it. Honestly, this will be good for her. A little time to cool off, get some perspective. Otherwise, it’s going to be impossible for you and Leo down the road."

Evelyn’s voice was laced with a practiced sadness. "Michael, maybe I should just take Leo and move out. What if a month from now she's still angry? What if this becomes real? I'd feel like the villain in your story."

A soft, dismissive chuckle from Michael.

"Impossible. She's just leveraging the thirty-day cooling-off period to threaten me. You wait and see. When the final day comes, Chloe won't even show up…"

A sudden, violent gust of wind howled past, swallowing the rest of his words. It scoured the remaining leaves from my car, blowing away every last speck of dust.

"Nice," I murmured, looking up at the sky. Then I got in my car and drove away.

3

When I got back to the house, our housekeeper, Rosa, was directing a team of movers from a storage company.

"Ma'am," she said, seeing me. "I didn't dare touch this wall. I think you need a professional to handle this. It would be a shame if anything got scratched."

She was pointing to our photo wall. An entire wall covered in four years of memories, of Michael and me. I had picked out every single frame. I had spent hours arranging them just so. I even cleaned the glass myself every week.

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