Where Love Lies Buried

The day I found out Liam was cheating again, I let out a long, slow sigh of relief.
This was the latest in a long, unbroken line of betrayals, and always with the same woman.
Over the phone, his breaths were shallow and quick as he claimed to be in a meeting.
I stretched languidly, gazing out the window at the endless night, and hung up.
I thought of the vow we’d made so long ago: If I ever betray you, may I die a horrible death.
A shame no one ever actually dies from it. But the betrayal is always real.
I drafted the divorce papers. This broken, rotten marriage was over.

1.
Liam came home at three in the morning.
He had a satisfied, languid smile on his face as he came to wrap his arms around me on the sofa. A faint trace of perfume, a scent that wasn't mine, drifted into my nose.
The old me would have flown into a rage.
Where were you? Who were you with? Why does your shirt smell like that?
Then would come the screaming, the crying, the sound of things breaking. Liam would soothe me with some nonsensical excuse, and I, pathetically, would believe him.
But that was the old me. The me who was obsessively, blindly in love with him.
I used to spend hours staring at a photo of us at seventeen. The boy in that picture, the one who had loved me with such sincerity, was frozen in time.
Before he left to study abroad in London, he’d grabbed my hands, his eyes intense. “Don’t you dare betray me,” he’d said.
“Whoever betrays the other will die a horrible death.”
Back then, fueled by love, even a vow that dark sounded sweet.
Then came the call across time zones. A girl’s voice answered his phone, telling me he was in the shower. The call didn’t end when the water shut off. I heard their panting breaths, their quiet murmurs.
I knew. I sent him a novel-length breakup text.
He flew back immediately to win me over, the ghost of that same perfume still clinging to him.
“Kaley, she’s just a classmate. Nothing happened. We were just out for a run.”
And just like that, I believed him. It seems so absurd now.
Liam’s deep voice rumbled above my head, pulling me from the memory. “Why are you still up?”
Breathing in that familiar, foreign scent, I gently pushed him away.
As he stared, confused, I placed the freshly printed divorce agreement on the coffee table.
“Let’s get a divorce.”
Liam scoffed and tried to pull me into a hug again. I shoved him off. I just sat there, watching him with an unnerving calm as his composure began to crumble.
He shot to his feet, pacing back and forth with his hands on his hips. “I told you, I was in a meeting. I was late, okay? But I came home, didn’t I? I didn’t stay out all night!”

2.
The midnight curfew was a rule established after one of his many betrayals.
He’d promised to abide by it, and for a few weeks, he actually had, turning down after-work drinks and dinners. But he couldn’t turn down an invitation from her.
I had only met Zoe once. When Liam returned for good from London, he didn’t come to see me first. She showed up at my door, asking for a pair of his underwear to bring to him.
It was a blatant provocation. I shoved her out and slammed the door. But her woody, cloying perfume lingered in the apartment we had decorated together over video calls.
From then on, whenever I smelled that scent on him, I knew he’d been with her.
And every single time, Liam had a ready-made excuse.
He’d met with her to discuss a joint business venture.
He’d run into her by chance outside the office and they’d just grabbed a quick lunch.
It was a class reunion; everyone was there.
And each time, he would look me in the eye, his gaze achingly sincere, and swear, “Nothing happened. If I betrayed you, Kaley, may I die a horrible death.”
And I would believe him.
I looked up at the man who had been the centerpiece of my entire youth. All the obsession, the unwillingness to let go… it had all vanished. I couldn't find a trace of it.
Liam was still rambling, and I repeated, my voice flat. “Let’s get a divorce.”
He froze, standing ramrod straight in front of me. It was finally dawning on him that this wasn’t a tantrum. It wasn’t like the other times. I wasn’t throwing things. I wasn't screaming. I wasn’t even pointing out the evidence and demanding an explanation.

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