18 Missed Calls In Fire, I Left Him

When our house caught fire, I called Miller eighteen times. Eighteen times. Not a single one went through. After being rescued, I received a text from him. Miller: In a meeting. Don't make a scene. I lay in the ambulance, choking on smoke, unable to speak. The nurse helped me put on an oxygen mask. My phone screen was still lit, and I saw that his foster sister, Linda, had posted on f*******:: The burger my brother bought is just so delicious! It was attached with a video clip: She was sitting in the passenger seat of Miller's car with a burger spread out in front of her. I let out a faint laugh, and my mask fogged up. During our first year of marriage, I dropped a cookie crumb in his car. He kicked me out and didn't speak to me for two weeks. I spent a week begging for his forgiveness, promising never to let it happen again. For five years, I had barely dared to even take a sip of water in his car. Yet, his foster sister could sit in that very seat and eat a burger. Breadcrumbs clung to the leather upholstery, and he didn't find it dirty at all. I saved the video and sent it to him. "We're getting a divorce. Non-negotiable." The nurse asked anxiously, "Take deep breaths. Still can't reach your family?" I shook my head. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my throat. Every time I swallowed, I could taste the metallic tang of blood. My phone vibrated in my palm, which was stained with black soot. The screen lit up. The caller ID showed Miller. I stared at the flashing name. I answered. "Are you done with this tantrum?" His voice on the other end was calm and low. It carried his usual air of condescension. "You send a video and then demand a divorce? Sarah, how have you become so unreasonable?" I didn't say a word. The oxygen mask rose and fell with my breathing. "Linda just caught a ride with me. She was on my way." "Her blood sugar was low, and she wanted to eat something. I couldn't just let her go hungry." There was a hint of exasperation in Miller's tone. He was completely convinced that I was being irrational. "Are you really going to drag us to the County Court over a burger?" The wheels of the gurney squeaked loudly as they rolled across the tiled floor of the emergency room. "Miller." My voice was raspy, dry, and strained. "I said, We're getting a divorce. Non-negotiable." There was silence on the other end for two seconds. Then, a faint, cold chuckle came through. "Fine. You've really grown some backbone, haven't you?" He paused. His tone became even more coldly rational. "I'll have my assistant replace the seat covers tomorrow. Stay out tonight to cool off. Don't come home. "I'm taking Linda to a midnight movie so she doesn't overthink things and feel like you're targeting her." I stared at the fluorescent light above me. "Fine," I said. "Do whatever you want." Miller seemed not to have expected me to be so calm. He was silent for a moment. "Sarah, don't think you can use this cold treatment to force me to back down." "When you dropped those cookie crumbs, it was a violation of the rules. Linda is different. She just went through a breakup. I'm her brother; why is it such a big deal if I indulge her just once?" He justified his blatant favoritism as if it were perfectly natural. "I see," I replied. "Tomorrow morning at ten, meet me at at the County Court. Don't forget your ID." I hung up immediately. The nurse walked over with a cotton swab stained with black soot. "What did your husband say? When is he coming to sign the papers?" I locked my phone and shoved it into the pocket of my hospital gown. "He's not coming," I said, looking her in the eyes. "I'll sign them myself." The nurse looked stunned. "But you inhaled carbon monoxide. You've been resuscitated, but you need to stay for observation. It's dangerous to be here without a family member." "I don't have any family left." I turned my head to look out at the night through the window. The glass reflected my soot-stained face. Half of my hair had been singed off, emitting the pungent smell of burnt protein. ***** Just half an hour ago, the aging electrical wiring in our old apartment complex had caused a massive fire. The flames had spread rapidly. I had been trapped in the bedroom. Thick smoke poured in through the cracks of the door. I lay on the windowsill and called Miller. The first call: no answer. The fifth call: hung up on. The eighteenth call: his phone was turned off. I had thought he was in some important emergency meeting. Instead, he was buying burgers for Linda. Then he was taking her to a midnight movie because she was heartbroken and in a bad mood. Meanwhile, I had nearly died in a fire. For these past five years, I had lived a life of extreme humility, all to cater to his obsession with cleanliness. He hated smells in the house, so I didn't even dare to order spicy snail noodles. He hated it when the passenger seat got dirty, so I always brushed off any dust from my clothes before getting into the car. But Linda could climb into his car reeking of barbecue, dripping grease onto his precious leather seats. Rules are only meant to constrain those who are not loved. Favoritism, however, can break every rule. I closed my eyes, slowly picking the black soot from under my fingernails. 'Miller. I'm done making a scene. That passenger seat is all hers now.'