His Countdown Changed I Left With My Kid

I have eyes that can see the countdown before a marriage breaks. When the countdown hits zero, the marriage falls apart. The day my parents got divorced, I watched the number of their heads drop from more than ten thousand days all the way to zero. After that, whenever I dated someone, I always found myself looking at the number above their head. Then I married Rhys Keaton. For five years, the number above his head stayed steady at over twenty thousand days. I truly believed we would grow old together. It all changed on our daughter's third birthday. We had planned a family trip to the amusement park, but he didn't show up. Over the phone, he sounded sorry, saying, "I'm so sorry, love... something came up at work all of a sudden. I'll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise." Then later that night, he walked through the door at nearly eleven, holding a toy in his hand... and smelling of someone else's perfume. Our daughter looked up at him and asked, "Daddy, do you not like spending my birthday with me?" Rhys went stiff. "Don't say that, honey. Of course, I do." I looked up at him. The number that had stood at more than twenty thousand days for five years had changed. It now reads: seven days. I took the gift he handed me and nodded calmly. Seven days are more than enough time to take our daughter and disappear from his life completely. ***** "Why are you still awake?" Rhys changed his shoes as he looked over at me on the sofa, taking off his coat and hanging it on the rack by the door. "Annabelle insisted on waiting for you." My eyes stayed fixed on the number above his head. Just a few hours ago, it had read twenty-three thousand, four hundred and fifty-one days. Rhys did not notice where I was looking. He quickly stepped to the sofa and crouched down beside me. He pulled a Barbie doll out from behind his back and held it out to our daughter, "Annabelle, sweetheart, Daddy had to work very late today. I work hard so we can buy a bigger house for us. I am sorry I missed your day." He gently stroked her hair. "I got you a special edition doll. Will you forgive Daddy, please?" Annabelle held tight to her stuffed bear and did not reach for the new doll. She looked up at him, her eyes glistening. "Daddy, do you not like spending my birthday with me?" Rhys's smile froze for a moment, but he quickly recovered and brushed her cheek lightly with his finger. "Daddy loves you more than anything. Tomorrow is Saturday, so I will take you to the amusement park. You can go on any ride you want." Annabelle looked over at me, as if asking what I thought. I took the doll from Rhys and set it down on the coffee table. "It is late. Take her to bed now." Rhys let out a quiet breath and stood up. He leaned in, trying to kiss me on the forehead, but at the last minute, I turned my head slightly, so his kiss missed me. However, as his lips still brushed my ear, I caught a faint, sharp scent of expensive woody perfume. Rhys paused. "Hey, are you upset with me?" He reached out to take my hand. "I had to meet with an important client, but I could not get out of it. I promise I will spend the whole day with you tomorrow." I looked him straight in the eyes. If I could not see that countdown, I might actually believe him. "I am not upset." I pulled my hand away and picked up his briefcase from near the door. "Go take a shower. I will put your bag away for you." Rhys did not question it. He smiled and walked toward the bathroom. Soon I heard the water running. I carried his briefcase into the study, unzipped it, and started sorting through the papers inside. My fingers brushed something stiff in the inner pocket. I pulled it out. Two movie ticket stubs. The time was eight o'clock that night. Seats thirteen and fourteen, the couple seats. There were faint smudges of buttered popcorn grease on the paper. I stared at those tickets for a long time. I did not cry. I did not tremble. I simply slipped them back deep into the pocket, smoothed the lining, and zipped the bag closed. The water stopped running. Rhys came out drying his hair, dressed in fresh pajamas. He walked over to the table and opened a brown paper bag. "Look what I brought you, love." A warm, sweet smell filled the room, roasted sweet potato. "I stopped at that little shop on the corner. The one you always loved. They were still open, so I grabbed one for you on the way home." He split it open and held out the soft, warm middle part toward me. "Eat it while it is hot." I saw the faint dust on his fingertips and the warm smile on his face. Back when we were first together, I often had stomach pain late at night. He would go out of his way every single evening to buy roasted sweet potatoes for me. He said warm food would settle my stomach and make me feel better. In those days, the number above his head always stayed steady, well over twenty thousand days. Now the sweet potato was just as sweet, but the number above his head had dropped to seven. I took a bite. It was delicious, but it felt hard to swallow. "Is it good?" Rhys watched me, his eyes bright and hopeful. "Yes, it is good." I took a tissue and wiped my mouth. Rhys smiled wide. He thought he had fixed everything, that the trouble was over. He stepped closer and gently ran his hand over my hair. "Get some rest now. We have a big day tomorrow." He walked toward our bedroom. I sat alone at the table. The glowing red number seven hung bright and clear above him in the dim light.