His Love Sailed Away Without Me

Brandon had been sailing the open seas as a cargo ship captain for five years, and for five years, I waited for him on dry land.

He always told me that the ocean was dangerous, the conditions were brutal, and dependents weren't allowed on board.

So, I quietly kept our home running, waiting for the few times his ship would dock.

I even endured a miscarriage alone after a bad fall, refusing to disturb him at sea.

Until that day, while deep-cleaning the house, I found a velvet box hidden beneath his pillow.

The moment I opened it, photos spilled across the floor.

Resting on top was an official document: "Merchant Marine Spousal Sail-Along Authorization."

The applicants name: "Chloe Miller."

In the photos, Chloe was standing right beside him. Behind them were seagulls and a massive luxury freighter. She was laughing, her smile brighter and wilder than any tropical sea breeze.

On the back of the photo, Brandons handwriting read: "You are my lighthouse in the endless ocean."

I laughed.

I looked around our small house. I couldn't find a single photo of the two of us.

From that day on, I stopped going to the harbor.

I stopped sending messages that would only sink into the void. I stopped keeping dinners warm for a man who would never show up.

The ship that had been sailing in my heart for five years had finally sunk, silently, into the dark.

"Why didn't you come to the harbor to pick me up today?"

Brandon pushed the door open.

I was sitting at the dining table, peeling a tangerine and watching the weather channel.

In the past, every time he returned, I would be waiting at the dock two hours early, rain or shine.

"I was busy," I said.

I popped a tangerine slice into my mouth and walked into the kitchen.

He followed me, reaching out to wrap his arms around my waist from behind.

Usually, whenever he did this, I would turn around with a smile, stand on my toes, and hug his neck.

But this time, my body reacted faster than my brain.

I took a step to the left, stepping out of his reach.

He didn't seem to mind and began unpacking his duffel bag.

"We sailed pretty far south this time. I didn't have time to shop for anything fancy."

"But I got you this silk scarf. Chloe said all girls love these."

The scarf was ocean-blue. I didn't even recognize the foreign brand on the tag.

A bitter wave of pain washed over my heart.

He always did this.

A cheap souvenir to make up for his absence, as if that somehow meant I had shared his journey.

And then he took it for granted that I would always be waiting in the exact same spot.

"You don't like it?"

Seeing that I wasn't thrilled, Brandon frowned slightly.

"It's nice," I said flatly.

His frown deepened. He tugged at his collar, looking annoyed.

"Hazel, are you still mad because I didn't take you with me?"

"It was a brutal route this time. You couldn't have handled it."

"Next time, I promise. Well plan a perfect trip just for you."

I didn't reply.

Thinking the matter was settled, Brandon leaned in naturally, trying to kiss me.

I raised my hand, gently pressing against his shoulder to stop him.

He froze.

"Im tired, Brandon."

He fell silent for a few seconds, then patted my shoulder.

"Then get some rest."

"Chloe said she couldn't find where she put her souvenirs from the trip. You know how clumsy she is. I'm going to go over to her place and help her look."

"Okay."

He didn't leave immediately after I said that.

My unusually calm reaction seemed to catch him off guard.

In the past, whenever he went to see Chloe, I would throw a fit.

I would scream at him, demanding to know if Chloe was more important than his own wife.

And every time, Brandon would explain with a sigh that Chloe was just the girl next door, that she was lonely and shy, and that he, as an older brother figure, had to look after her.

Then, he would leave for her apartment without a second thought.

But this time, I just turned my back.

I didn't look at him anymore.

The sound of the front door closing left the apartment in dead silence.

After a long time, I stood up and walked into the study.

This was where Brandon kept his navigation charts.

He once pointed to those routes and promised to take me to see every single one of them.

I walked in.

Seashell wind chimes from Bali, a model fishing boat from the Maldives, blue-and-white ceramics from Greece...

Over the past five years, his ship had docked in twelve different countries.

Yet, I hadn't even been to the nearest harbor with him.

At the bottom of the shelf was a blue logbook.

The Strait of Malacca, the Cape of Good Hope, Cape Town...

Every single page had Chloes handwriting or her little doodles on it.

I gently ran my fingers over the fabric cover.

I had spent three painful nights sewing that cover by hand for his birthday two years ago.

My stitching was messy, and I had pricked my fingers so many times.

When he received it, he had spun me around in his arms, saying, "This will record every single place we explore together."

Now, under the study light, Chloe's handwriting on those pages felt like a slap in the face.

The sound of quiet footsteps came from the hallway.

Brandon pushed the door open, his eyes landing on the notebook in my hand.

His expression shifted slightly, but he quickly recovered his composure.

"Why aren't you in bed yet?"

I didn't answer.

He wrapped his arms around my waist, offering a casual explanation.

"Chloe insisted on putting those labels on. She said it keeps the good memories alive."

"I see."

I lowered my head and put the logbook back.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

It was a Snapchat message from my best friend, Cleo.

"I found the lawyer you asked for. He specializes in maritime divorces. He wants to know when you're free for a consultation."

I set my phone on the desk, the screen still glowing.

Brandon subconsciously glanced down.

His breathing stopped.

He stood there, suddenly letting out an annoyed, dry laugh.

"What is wrong with you today, Hazel?"

"Just because I took Chloe out to sea a couple of times?"

"Fine. Ill take you on the next voyage, okay?"

He loosened his collar, his tone condescending, like he was comforting a spoiled child.

Without waiting for my answer, he turned and walked toward the master bedroom.

After a few steps, he stopped and looked back.

"Chloe is years younger than you, yet shes way more mature."

"Can't you learn a thing or two from her?"

A surge of grievance rushed to my chest, but it faded just as quickly.

Once, words like that would have made me panic.

They would have made me beg for his approval, doubting my own worth.

But now, my heart was a flatline.

For five years, I had done nothing but wait.

Wait for him to dock.

Dealing with emergencies with no one to lean on, sending texts that got ignored.

All while he ran off to Chloe under the guise of "taking care of her."

I looked into his eyes and nodded.

"Okay. I won't make a scene anymore."

With that, I turned on my heel and walked into the guest bedroom.

Over the next few days, I silently began packing my things.

Brandon spent almost all his time at Chloe's place.

Because of that, he didn't notice the things slowly disappearing from our apartment.

The small fishbowl on the table went to Cleo.

I dragged the old armchair from the living room out to the trash.

My existence was being erased from this home, piece by piece.

"Im teaching Chloe how to read navigation charts this afternoon. You should join us."

Brandon sat at the breakfast bar.

"Didn't you always complain about not understanding the charts? That you never knew where I was?"

In the past, I had begged him to teach me.

But he had said, "Maritime stuff is too complicated for you. You don't need to learn it anyway."

Now, he was offering, but only as an afterthought to Chloe's lesson.

There was a knock at the door.

Chloe stood at the entrance, wearing a white sundress.

She smiled sweetly, but when she saw me, her smile faltered.

I didn't say a word.

The atmosphere turned icy.

Her eyes immediately welled with tears, and she began twisting the hem of her dress.

"Hazel... are you mad that Im here?"

"If it bothers you, I can leave right now."

Seeing her tears, Brandons face instantly darkened. He grabbed her by the wrist.

"Why should you leave?"

He glared at me, his patience exhausted.

"Hazel, Ive told you a thousand times, Chloe is like a sister to me. If you can't stand her being around, then you don't need to come on the next voyage either."

Disappointment washed over me like freezing seawater, numbing me from head to toe.

Brandon didn't look at me again. He led Chloe into the study and shut the door.

Under the warm glow of the desk lamp, he spread out the giant marine map. He leaned over, his finger tracing a path from one port to another.

"This is Malacca. And here is the Cape of Good Hope."

"Last year, when we passed the Cape, the storm was so bad the whole ship felt like it was going to capsize."

He tilted his head to look at Chloe, his voice incredibly gentle.

"Do you remember how scared you were? You sent me so many texts."

Chloe giggled, wiping away her crocodile tears.

"Thirty-seven texts."

"But you told me everything would be fine, so I wasn't scared anymore."

They stood side by side, their shadows overlapping on the wall, looking like a perfect couple.

I stood at the doorway of the study, feeling like an intruder in my own home.

I remembered that storm.

The news had reported a category-four gale in his area.

I had paced the living room all night, out of my mind with worry.

I sent text after text.

It wasn't until the next afternoon that he replied with a single word: "Fine."

Everything they shared was a world I was locked out of.

My chest ached slightly.

I turned around, went back to my room, and continued packing the rest of my life.

Because Brandon's future was a world I no longer wanted any part of.

A knock came at the door.

When I opened it, our neighbor, Mrs. Gable, was standing there with a freshly baked apple pie.

"Hazel, honey, I saw Brandon was back, so I made someoh?"

She glanced past me and saw the two figures standing close together in the study.

Her warm smile instantly vanished.

She shoved the pie into my hands and spoke loudly enough for the whole apartment to hear:

"Captain Brandon, Hazel has been waiting for you all alone. She goes to the harbor before sunrise, rain or shine. She hasn't missed a single day."

"Now that youre finally home, youre spending your time with someone else, leaving your wife to watch from the sidelines?"

The murmuring in the study stopped.

Chloe walked out, her eyes red. "Ma'am, you've got it all wrong."

"Got it wrong? Im old, not blind," Mrs. Gable scoffed, giving her a look of pure disgust.

"Honestly, girls these days... always trying to claw their way into someone else's marriage."

Before she could finish, Chloe burst into tears, covered her face, and ran out of the apartment.

Brandon snatched his jacket, rushing to chase after her.

As he brushed past me, he threw a freezing glare. "Is this how you trash-talk Chloe when Im not around?"

"If anything happens to her tonight, I will never forgive you."

I stood alone in the doorway.

The apple pie was still warm, the steam rising against my face.

Mrs. Gable looked mortified.

"Oh, Hazel, sweetie, I'm so sorry. Did I just ruin things between you two?"

My voice was dry.

"The person ruining things isn't you, Mrs. Gable."

Suddenly, I remembered a winter night two years ago.

The wind at the harbor was freezing. I had waited in my heavy winter coat for three hours.

But the moment he stepped off the ship, Chloe called. She said she had sprained her ankle and couldn't walk.

He threw a quick, "Take an Uber home," at me, leaving me alone in the dark parking lot.

The freezing wind howled down my collar.

Halfway home, something warm began dripping down my legs, soaking my jeans in crimson.

I called Brandon.

He didn't pick up.

It wasn't until the next morning that he sent a brief text saying his ship had to set sail again immediately due to an urgent cargo order.

I didn't want him to feel guilty while out at sea, so I never told him about the pregnancy or the miscarriage.

But looking back now, he hadn't been on an urgent mission at all. He had probably just taken Chloe out on a joyride to cheer her up.

...

When Brandon returned that night, his face was stormier than the deep ocean.

He stood at the door, jacket still on, and barked, "Are you happy now?"

"Chloe has been crying for hours. You are going to go over to Mrs. Gable's tomorrow and clear Chloe's name."

"Chloe and I are completely innocent! You're just paranoid!"

"If you can't accept her in my life..." He paused, his eyes cold. "Then maybe this marriage was a mistake."

"Are you done?" I stopped packing my box.

Brandon frowned.

"I won't accept it."

He blinked, caught off guard.

"What did you say?"

"I said," I gently touched my stomach, where a little heartbeat had once lived, "go be with Chloe. Lets get a divorce."

Brandon snapped straight up, his face turning incredibly pale.

"Hazel, remember what you're saying right now. Don't come crawling back crying to me later!"

He thought I was just throwing a tantrum.

Because in the past, when he was home for such short periods, I hated wasting our precious time together on arguments.

So, I was always the one to bow my head, apologize, and let him run back to Chloe.

But this time, I just calmly turned around, walked to the nightstand, and pulled open the bottom drawer.

Inside was a thin manila envelope.

I pulled it out and set it on the nightstand.

It was the divorce agreement Cleos lawyer had drafted and sent over half an hour ago.

The next morning, I met Cleo at a coffee shop.

She was already there, two iced coffees on the table. She had already downed half of hers.

"Didn't sleep well?" I asked, taking a seat.

"I was too busy being furious on your behalf," she said, crushing her empty plastic cup and throwing it in the trash.

"That bitch Chloe posted on Snapchat again last night. It was a photo of your husbands study."

"The caption said: "'Thank you, Brandon, for walking through every ocean with me.'"

"I swear, she is a pathogen. Pure poison."

I pulled out my phone to check.

In the photo, Chloe's finger was pointing at the Cape of Good Hope on the chart, and Brandons arm was visible in the frame.

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, making the blue map look warm and peaceful.

I scrolled down to the comments.

Chloe had replied to someone: "Its Brandon's study! He promised to take me to Iceland next."

I flipped my phone face down and took a sip of my coffee.

It tasted incredibly bitter.

Cleo suddenly grabbed my hand. "Are you scared?"

"No," I replied softly. "Im more scared of being trapped in those five years forever."

The road from our apartment to the harbor... I never wanted to walk it again.

When I got home, Brandon was waiting for me in the living room.

He was holding a piece of paper, his eyes bloodshot.

"We had a baby? Why didn't you tell me?"

I glanced at the hospital discharge papers in his hand. My face remained blank.

"I tried to."

"But before I could even open my mouth, Chloe called you away."

Watching his face twist in sudden agony, I said every word clearly:

"It was freezing that night. I didn't even make it home before the baby was gone."

"I'm sorry, Hazel..." Brandon couldn't bear to hear any more. He cut me off, burying his face in my lap, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed.

"I'm so sorry."

"I won't do it again. I promise, I will never see Chloe again."

I paused for a moment.

"Let me take you out to sea with me this time, okay?"

"You've wanted to go for so long," he looked up, his eyes pleading. "Just the two of us."

I agreed.

This was his final test.

The next morning, the harbor was quiet.

Brandon loaded our suitcases into the trunk and opened the passenger door for me.

Before I could step in, his phone rang.

The name "Chloe" flashed on the screen.

He glanced at it and rejected the call.

But the moment he put it back in his pocket, it rang again.

He rejected it again.

When it rang a third time, his hand hovered over the screen, hesitating.

"Answer it," I said, leaning against the car door. My voice was eerily calm.

He let out a breath of relief and swiped green.

Immediately, Chloes hysterical crying echoed from the speaker: "Brandon! What do you mean we can't see each other anymore?"

"We promised we would go to the Keys together! Are you taking Hazel instead?!"

Brandon glanced at me guiltily, opening his mouth to speak.

But Chloe screamed over the wind on her end: "If you're not in my life, what's the point of living?!"

Brandon's face drained of color. He gripped his phone tightly. "Chloe, don't do anything stupid"

I watched him. His brow was furrowed, and his hand instinctively reached for the car keys.

I knew that movement all too well. For five years, whenever Chloe cried, he did that exact same thing.

My voice was soft, but heavy.

"Brandon."

"If you walk away today, we are officially divorced."

He froze, torn in deep conflict.

"Just this once, Hazel. Its an emergency."

The tight string that had been pulled taut in my heart for five years finally snapped.

I realized I had never been waiting for a voyage.

I had been waiting for him to finally put me first.

Now, I saw the truth.

That spot had never belonged to me.

I smiled gently.

"Go ahead. Don't forget to sign the papers."

Brandon paused, looking at me deeply. "Hazel, stop playing games. Wait for me at home."

I didn't answer.

There would be no more waiting.

...

The yellow cab merged onto the highway.

The ocean stretched out to my right, a quiet, dusty blue.

My phone lit up.

A Snapchat from Brandon: "Where are you? Why aren't you at the apartment?"

I didn't reply. I turned off the phone, popped out the SIM card, and threw it out the window.

It vanished into a roadside drain in the blink of an eye.

From this day on, we would be strangers.