His Favorite Mistake

Chapter 9

I kept staring at the screen, hoping the longer I looked, the less real it would become.

I locked the phone and placed it face-down on the bed. My hands were still slightly damp. Water continued to drip from the ends of my hair onto the white towel. I sat on the edge of the mattress until the cold forced me to move. The comments were still there, behind the dark screen. People congratulating me for a dinner I never attended. People calling me lucky while another woman's lipstick sat on my husband's collar.

I went back into the bathroom and dried my hair properly. My eyes stayed red no matter how many times I pressed cool water against them. When I opened the wardrobe, most of my clothes hung loosely on my frame. I had been losing weight without noticing how much. Blouses that once fitted me now looked shapeless. Trousers slipped at the waist. I tried on three different outfits before I finally found a cream blouse and a pair of dark jeans that still sat properly.

"Yes," I whispered to myself. "This is better. This still suits my new body."

I tied my hair into a low ponytail and left the bedroom without looking in the mirror again.

The house felt too still. I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. I took out a small container of leftover rice and placed it on the counter. I warmed it slightly. When I sat down, the dining room felt so empty, like I was a certified loner. The food felt heavy on my tongue. I chewed slowly, but my throat refused to swallow. After a few more attempts, I pushed the plate away. My stomach felt tight and empty at the same time. I poured a glass of water instead and drank it standing by the sink. The cold liquid settled lightly, the only thing I could manage.

My phone rang while the glass was still in my hand.

Stella.

I almost let it ring out. Stella had always spoken about my marriage as if it were something to envy. She was the kind of woman who noticed every anniversary post and every carefully chosen caption and treated them like proof of a perfect life.

I answered.

"Esther!" Her voice came bright and full of energy. "I just saw Frederick's post. You two are enjoying your marital life to the fullest. That restaurant was beautiful. I'm genuinely jealous. You're living the life the rest of us only post about."

I rested my free hand on the counter.

"It was just dinner," I said.

"Just dinner? Please don't say just. The way he wrote ‘Finally, some peace’... it's obvious how much he values time with you. Some of us can't even get our husbands to sit down for ten minutes without their phones. You're so lucky."

The word settled heavily in my chest.

"How have you been, Stella?"

"Busy. Tired. The usual." She laughed lightly. "Work has been chaotic, and the children are making it unbearable." I tried to smile. She continued, "That's why seeing you and Frederick always makes me feel hopeful. You both look like soulmates. So sorted. I was telling my sister this morning that some women just know how to keep their homes peaceful with the right man in their life, and you've proven that. You never seem stressed. You never look like you have carried anything heavy since you said ‘I do’ to Frederick."

I made a small sound that could pass for agreement.

"I'm glad it looks that way."

"It doesn't just look that way. It is that way. Anyone scrolling can see it. Honestly, Esther, sometimes I wonder how you do it. Most women would be making noise all over social media by now, but you always seem calm. It's inspiring, in a way."

I stared at the unfinished plate of rice on the counter.

"Well, I guess people are different and do things differently. That makes us unique," I said quietly.

"Well, whatever you're doing, keep doing it. The rest of us are still trying to figure it out. Anyway, I won't keep you long. I'm sure you're enjoying your morning. Let me allow you to go enjoy your honeymoon." She giggled.

I managed to make my front teeth visible in something that resembled a smile, because that was the most I could offer. "Take care, Esthy."

"Okay. Take care."

I ended the call and set the phone down. My hands were not steady. I pressed them flat against the cold counter until the trembling slowed.

Honeymoon.

A short, broken laugh left my throat. Hot tears pushed against my eyes, threatening to fall. I blinked hard, but one escaped and slid down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly.

If this was how a honeymoon felt, I wished no woman would ever experience it. Who celebrated a honeymoon sitting alone in a quiet house, unable to eat, staring at an unfinished plate of rice? The pain of suffering in silence while the world believed I had everything hit harder than I expected. People thought I was living a dream. They had no idea I was barely holding myself together.

I stayed in the dining room for a long time after that. The silence settled around me like a weight. I could still smell the faint trace of his cologne mixed with something else that clung to the garment bag in the bedroom. Every time I thought about going in there to move it, my body refused. So I remained where I was, leaning against the counter, staring at the plate I had shifted to one side. I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten like a happy woman.

I tried to keep busy. I wiped the already clean counter. I rearranged the few fruits I had left in the bowl. I checked the tim

e on the microwave more than once. The minutes moved slowly. Outside, the light changed from bright morning to the softer gold of afternoon. Still the house remained quiet. Still no message came.

By the time the sun began to lower, the quiet had become unbearable.

I picked up my bag and keys.