ANOTHER'S TREASURE

CHAPTER 2

He wrapped his arms around me pulling me close. I buried my face in his shoulder, crying my eyes out. We stayed like that for minutes that felt too short. Jamie was rubbing my back and telling me ‘it was going to be ok’, but how could this be ok?

Neither of us ate that night. There was nothing left in the fridge but a bottle of water and an expired jar of pickles and I had no strength to stand over the cooker without breaking down.

We lay on the bed, in a room that echoed with too much space. The curtains were gone.

He curled beside me, hand holding me tightly like he was scared I'd disappear.

“Goodnight, Mom,” he whispered.

“Goodnight, baby.”

Sleep didn’t come easily. I kept staring at the ceiling, tracing the path of a faint crack I had never noticed before.

The next morning, I sat with the phone in my hand for ten full minutes before pressing the call.

My boss picked up on the second ring.

“Hello, Cynthia.”

“Hi,” I said, trying to hide any evidence of pain behind my rough voice. “I won’t be coming in today.”

“Are you alright?”

I paused. Took a deep breath before replying.

“No.”

"What's wrong?"

"I'm just sick," I replied quickly.

“Cynthia, are you sure that’s all it is?”

I swallowed hard, I wanted to scream but... “Yes. Just a cold.”

He said nothing for a second, then his tone softened. “Cyn… I’ve known you for a while. I know your voice when you’re sick, and this isn’t it. What’s really going on?”

My lips trembled, the phone shook in my hand.

“Please don’t make me ask again.”

And just like that, the dam broke. open.

“My husband left,” I whispered. “He took everything. The savings, our furniture…just gone. He didn’t even say goodbye. Just left a letter.”

“Oh my God… Cynthia, I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t even realize how bad it was. I trusted him with everything. I didn’t even think to check, I trusted him blindly”

“Hey… It's not your fault.”

"I don’t even know how to explain to my son why his father vanished or why we slept in an almost empty house last night. I just… I need some time. Because I’m losing it. And I can’t lose it. Not in front of my son.”

There was a long pause. Then, in a calm, steady voice, he replied,

“You don’t need to come back to work until you’re ready. I’ll arrange a leave. Just take care of yourself and your boy.”

My tears came again, slower now and I did nothing to stop them.

“Thank you,”

That afternoon, while Jamie was at school, the mail came.

A small stack of envelopes, sitting on the doorstep like ghosts waiting to be noticed.

I picked them up and walked inside, flipping through them slowly.

The first was a water bill.

Then electricity.

Then gas.

All overdue. All unopened. All addressed months ago.

The realization hit me sharply. I had given Marcus money for each one of them. He had told me not to worry. I had always trusted him.

But now, with each envelope I opened, a new weight dropped onto my chest. He hadn’t been paying them. He’d been hiding them. Collecting the money and stashing it away, for this exact moment—his grand escape.

My knees gave out and I dropped to the floor, the bills spreading around me like petals in a funeral.

I started laughing, Not out of humor. Out of something more deliberate. A laugh that cracked in the middle and turned into a sob.

“He really did it,” I said to the empty room. “He really planned this.” The realization was like a deafening slap to me.

A letter slipped. My eyes caught the corner where something had been scribbled in red ink on the back of the envelope.

“Sorry. It was the only way.”

The only way?

I laughed again, louder this time, pushing my palms into my eyes as the tears finally burst free.

I wanted to scream. Tear something. Shatter a plate or punch the wall as Jamie did. But I couldn't. I just sat there, surrounded by proof of betrayal, grieving the man I once loved with every ounce of my heart and the home I thought I had.

For hours, I sat there crying, laughing, remembering, and breaking all at once.

By the time Jamie came home, the letters had been gathered into a neat pile, and I sat by the window, staring at nothing.

“Mom?” he called.

I heard him but I lost the strength to speak.

“Mom, you okay?”

I turned, tried to smile, but it didn’t quite feel like a smile and even I knew.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, walking over and gently pulling me into a hug. “Okay? No matter what, we’ll be okay.”

I nodded into his shoulder, trying to believe. clinging to the only truth that still made sense. My son, this boy "My hope".

-----

Seven days.

It had been seven days since the truth slapped me, seven days since Marcus left.

I hadn’t noticed how much weight I’d lost until my reflection caught me off guard one morning. Pale, like a ghost who hadn’t figured out how to leave yet.

The house felt colder now, emptier. My footsteps echoed. My laughter when it came felt like it didn’t belong to me anymore.

And Jamie, he tried. God, he tried. Always cracking jokes, dancing awkwardly in the hallway just to get a smile.

And sometimes, I did smile. But it felt empty.

Jamie was trying to hold the broken pieces together while I was too shattered to move. And I hated that. I hated how weak I was.

While he was at school I walked into his room. The only part of this house that hadn't been snatched.

I hadn’t really looked in a while. His drawings were still taped to the wall. A photo of us, taken years ago at the beach, sat on his desk. It made me smile… until I saw the envelope beside it, I had no idea, how scared of white folded paper I'd become till the envelope was shaking violently in my hand.

His school reports, his grades were slipping badly. Subjects he used to breeze through were now full of red marks and concerned notes from teachers. Some assignments hadn’t even been turned in.

He was failing school… because I failed at home.

And then there were the shirts. A small pile of them in the corner, waiting to be washed. Oil stains marked across the fabric.

Car grease?

I hadn’t seen that in months, not since Marcus sold our only car to pursue some business idea he had.

So where did this come from?.