The Wife He Forgot To Love

Chapter 5

Ariel's POV

I woke at exactly six in the morning to the sound of Matt in the kitchen. Turned out I only slept for two hours.

Seeing my properties packed into boxes sowed questions in my mind... "What's next?"

How do I get my life back after this? Who would I become?

These questions stayed with me all night, and it was a relief to discover I finally slept.

Tired of staying in that bed, I stood to my feet, walked over to the closet, splashed water on my face, took a deep breath, and headed down to the kitchen.

As I walked into the kitchen, I didn't need anyone to tell me what Matt was making... the scent in the kitchen alone revealed it.

Apple cinnamon waffles... my favorite, aside from blueberry pancakes.

He knew. He always knew.

Matt was standing at the stove in a grey shirt and sweatpants, with a spatula in his hand.

He was singing and cooking like he does on every normal Saturday... as if I wasn't leaving today.

But something seemed off. He had two plates on the counter, not three...

"Where's Beatrice?" I voiced without thinking.

"Good morning, Ariel. How are you doing?" he asked without turning around.

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Good morning. I feel good. Thank you."

"Beatrice didn't sleep here. She had an early appointment." He slid a waffle onto one of the plates. "Plus, I figured we needed this. Just us. I have to respect your time before you leave."

I climbed onto one of the stools and watched him cook. It felt like I was standing inside a photograph I wasn't supposed to be in anymore.

"You remember the first time you tried to cook in this kitchen?" he began after a minute or two, and I knew where the conversation was headed. I didn't like it.

"Please don't," I groaned.

"The eggs, Ariel."

"Matt—"

"Scrambled eggs." He finally turned around, and I could see how much he was trying not to laugh. "You burnt scrambled eggs."

"In my defense... the pan was too hot."

"The pan was fine. You walked away to answer a phone call."

"It was important."

"You came back and they were black. Completely black. They looked like charcoal samples."

"They were..." I pressed my lips together, trying not to smile. "Slightly overdone."

"I had to open three windows." He pointed the spatula at me. "Three."

"The smoke alarm didn't even go off."

"Because I ripped the battery out the week before. After your pasta incident."

Now that made me laugh so hard I almost choked.

"Matt, the pasta wasn't my fault. The recipe online was misleading."

"You used salt instead of sugar."

"They look the same."

"In what world—" He stopped, shook his head, turned back to the stove. "And then when I was sick, you made me soup."

"No... no..." I was laughing hard this time. "You can't bring that up. That soup was good. You never complained."

"My darling Ariel... it was water with vegetables floating in it."

"It was broth. Why didn't you say anything?" My cheeks burned from laughter.

"Because I didn't want to break your ego!" His laughter roared through the kitchen. "There was no seasoning in that soup, Ariel. None. It tasted like sadness."

I laughed again, harder this time. "You still finished it."

"I had to... the doctors said I needed to have something in my stomach."

We were both laughing now. Helplessly, in fact. What made it even more funny was that he never mentioned it. Matt never complained about my cooking. He just made corrections, and we moved on.

He set the plate in front of me. Waffles, golden and perfect, dusted with cinnamon. And beside it, he placed a small dish of syrup on the side because he knew I liked to pour my own.

Then slowly, our laughter faded, and we just sat there in the kitchen, eating waffles at six thirty in the morning while I had to pretend I wasn't counting down the hours.

"I'm going to miss this," I uttered after a few bites.

Matt's fork froze halfway to his mouth. "Miss what?"

"This... the breakfast... the mornings." You. But I didn't say that part out loud.

Matt set down his fork and looked at his plate like he was just seeing it... "I should, uhm..." He cleared his throat, his voice shaking. "I should probably stop making these. Beatrice prefers smoothie bowls."

"You should make what she likes," I responded gently. "That's how this works."

Matt nodded, but he didn't look convinced. He seemed... lost.

The movers arrived thirty minutes before eight, and without wasting another second, they began to pack my life... my properties into their vehicle.

I stood outside the porch as they went in and out, while Matt stood beside me with his hands in his pockets.

Then came this strong urge to ask him if he wasn't going to work today, but I just let it slide. We were divorced, and I shouldn't care anymore.

As the last box was carried into the truck, I took one final long look at the house before I turned to Matt.

"I guess this is it," I whispered.

"I guess so," he replied.

I reached out my hand for a shake, to maybe say goodbye, but he covered the distance between us and pulled me into a hug.

My body froze as his arms came all the way around me firmly, and his face dropped into my hair.

I felt him breathe me in twice like he was trying to memorize me...

I could count how many times Matt hugged me, but never had he ever held me this way. Not once.

"Matt—" My voice came out almost like a whisper.

He pulled back too fast, as if he'd touched something hot and it burned him. His hand went straight to his hair, which was what it always did when he was flustered.

"Sorry. I don't know why I—" He swallowed the rest of his words. "Have a safe flight."

"Thank you." My eyes locked in with his. "For everything."

He nodded. And there was something in his face right then that I didn't have a name for.

Something that looked like a question he'd been sitting on for too long. "Goodbye, Ariel," he muttered, like he was scared.

"Goodbye, Matt."

I climbed into the front seat of the moving truck, and I told myself not to look back.

But just as the car began to move, I betrayed myself and looked.

My ex-husband was still standing in the driveway with one hand raised and waving at me.

The sight was so beautiful that I couldn't control the tears that began to pour out of my eyes.

***

A few minutes before the gate agent called me to board the plane, my phone buzzed in my purse.

It was a text from Matt.

Out of curiosity, I opened it, and it read, "You forgot something."

My heart jumped, and my fingers became a little clumsy. "What?"

Three dots appeared. Then a photo. It was the diamond necklace...

I stared at the photo longer than I should have, and then I typed the only thing I had left to say to him. "Keep it or give it out. I don't need it."

I hit send and set the phone face down on my lap.

When he gave me that necklace, I felt like his. Ariel Garfield. A woman who would wear anything and wait all day just to be seen.

She wasn't coming back.

The boarding call echoed through the terminal, so I grabbed my purse.

And this time… I didn’t look back.