DEAD BEFORE DIVORCE

Silk and Sulk Eva "Perfect," I whispered, holding up the red silk tie against the morning light. Three days of pricking my fingers with needles, but it was worth it. Oliver would love it, my man would definitely love it.. I tucked the tie into the picnic basket beside his favorite lasagna, the one with extra cheese that took me four hours to make. Today marked three years since he first said he loved me. Three years since I thought my life finally made sense. My phone buzzed. Running late for meetings today. Don't wait up tonight. - O I smiled anyway. He'd change his mind when he saw what I had planned. The elevator in Oliver's building always smelled like cheap coffee and broken dreams. Today it smelled like hope. I clutched the basket tighter as the numbers climbed to the fifteenth floor. "Eva!" Marcus, the front desk guy, appeared beside me as I stepped out. His usual smile looked forced. "What brings you here?" "Anniversary surprise." I lifted the basket. "Is Oliver free?" Marcus shifted on his feet. "Actually, he's in a really important meeting. Maybe you could.." "I'll just peek in. It won't take long." "No, seriously, Eva. He specifically said no interruptions today. Big client stuff, you know?" Something cold crawled up my spine screaming something was really going on. Marcus had never stopped me before. In fact, he usually waved me through with a grin and a comment about how lucky Oliver was. "I'm sure he won't mind," I said, stepping around him. "Eva, wait.." But I was already walking down the hallway, my heels clicking against the marble floor. Each step felt heavier than the last. The hallway seemed longer too, like it was stretching away from me. I stopped outside Oliver's office door. Silence. Then a sound. Low and rhythmic. Like someone exercising. My hand froze on the doorknob. The sound came again, followed by a woman's voice, breathless and urgent like someone who is receiving a deep thrust. "Yes, right there. Don't stop." The basket slipped from my fingers, but I caught it just in time. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I thought it might break through. ‘It's not what you think, I told myself. It's a conference call. Some workout videos. Anything.’ I pressed my ear to the door. "God, you feel so good," Oliver's voice, rough and desperate in a way I'd never heard before. My hand turned the knob before my brain could stop it. The door swung open. Oliver was bent over his desk, his pants around his ankles. Beneath him, Jessica from accounting lay spread across papers, my papers, my husband thrusting in and out of her with his endowed c**k,my endowed c**k. The anniversary scrapbook I'd spent weeks making, filled with photos of our trips, ticket stubs from our first movie, pressed flowers from our first date. They didn't stop. They didn't even look at me, they just kept on banging, jesculating without even thinking who might be watching. Jessica's red nails dug into Oliver's back as she moaned louder, her eyes locked on mine over his shoulder. A sick smile played on her lips. "Oliver," I whispered. Nothing. "OLIVER!" He turned his head, still moving, still inside her. His face showed no surprise, no shame. Just mild annoyance, like I'd interrupted him reading the newspaper. "Eva. You're early." "What, what are you.." "What does it look like?" He thrust harder, making Jessica cry out. "I'm busy." The room spun. The basket fell from my hands, lasagna splattering across the floor, red wine from the bottle spreading like blood across the white carpet. The silk tie landed in the mess, soaking up the wine until it looked like it was bleeding too. Oliver finished with a grunt that made my stomach turn. He pulled out of Jessica slowly, deliberately, like he wanted me to see everything. "Why are you crying?" He tucked himself back into his pants, straightening his shirt like nothing had happened. "It's not like you've ever made me come." The words hit me like physical blows. Each one finding its mark, tearing through three years of I-love-yous and you're-beautifuls and forever-and-always. Jessica sat up, smoothing her skirt down. Her lipstick was still perfect. "Happy anniversary, Eva." She picked up one of the photos from my ruined scrapbook, the one of Oliver and me at the beach last summer. "You've always been the side character in your own story, haven't you?" I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. Couldn't do anything but stand there like an i***t while my world collapsed around me. "The apartment," I finally managed. "Our apartment.." "My apartment," Oliver corrected. "Check the lease." Jessica laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Don't look so surprised, honey. Did you really think someone like him would end up with someone like you?" I ran. Down the hallway, past Marcus who wouldn't meet my eyes, into the elevator that took forever to close. The walls pressed in on me as I sobbed, my reflection in the polished steel showing a stranger, hollow-eyed, broken, pathetic. The ride home blurred together. Traffic lights, horn honks, the taste of salt and shame. I fumbled with my keys at the front door, my hands shaking so hard I dropped them twice. When I finally got inside, I froze. Picture frames lay shattered across the living room floor. Glass crunched under my feet as I moved through the apartment like a ghost. In the bedroom, the smell hit me first, Jessica's perfume, sickly sweet and everywhere. Oliver's suitcase sat on the bed. Open and empty. I walked to the window and looked down at the front lawn. My clothes were there. All of them. Burning in a pile while the neighbors watched from their porches. Three years of my life, turning to ash in the afternoon sun…