He Ignored Mom, I Quit Our Marriage

Chapter 2

His brow furrowed. Without a word, he tugged me toward the car.

He'd swapped out the old air freshener for a new one. The cloying, thick scent clung to the air and made me cough against my will.

It took Hunter a second to catch on, and he quickly rolled the window down, the gesture almost gentle.

"It's a little strong, but Eugene's always had good taste."

I flicked a glance at the air freshener's packaging. It was exactly the same one I'd given him for his birthday six months earlier.

Back then, he'd only mumbled a quick thank-you before tossing it aside without a second thought.

Later, he'd turned around and complained to his friends that my current taste wasn't good enough for someone of his status.

But that same man had gotten on his knees in front of his own father, the day my dad cheated and kicked me and my mom out of our home. He'd sworn he'd never despise me, that he'd marry no one but me.

I dragged my gaze away, my face calm as still water.

Hunter pulled the car to a stop in front of a convenience store.

He dragged me over to stand in front of the sanitary pad shelf, and I was just about to tell him we didn't need more because we had plenty at home, when his voice cut in, low and serious.

"Tiffany, what brand do you usually use? Eugene is on her period."

I froze solid right where I stood, my fingers curled tight into fists before I even realized what I was doing.

My mind yanked me back to the day we first met. I'd gotten my first period at school, and everyone was laughing at me. I'd been so flustered I didn't know what to do with myself.

The new transfer student had pulled me straight to this exact convenience store without saying a word, then smiled and told me to pick whatever I needed.

He'd said, "Don't be scared. Every girl goes through this."

From that day on, every time my period rolled around, Hunter would always stick close by, on one excuse or another.

To hand me a warm bottle of milk openly without anyone gossiping, he'd buy drinks for the whole class on the exact same days every month.

As I stood there, watching the man in front of me slowly blur into the boy from my memories, my eyes burned and pricked with unshed tears.

I didn't even snap back to the present until Hunter's voice rang right in my ear.

"What's wrong?"

I tilted my head back, forcing the tears to stay where they were, not letting them fall.

I plucked a few packages of different brands off the shelf. "These will work."

Hunter waved a hand grandly at the clerk, "One case of each of these brands. Load them into my car."

By the time the trunk and backseat were stuffed full to the brim, Hunter turned to me without a single moment of hesitation.

"Tiffany, you can take a taxi home." The words left his mouth, and he peeled out, speeding away into the distance.

Not long after, Eugene's Moments blew up with activity. In the photo she posted, Hunter was staring down at his hands, carefully washing a pair of underwear stained with blood.

Her caption read: So lucky to have you here with me during my most vulnerable time of the month.

The comments section was full of teasing.

A: [Only our new girl knows how to tame the guy! You know he's never washed a single piece of clothing his whole life!]

A wave of hot nausea rolled up my chest, and I bent over, heaving dryly.

Flash after flash of sheets stained with fresh virgin blood popped into my head.

For every sheet I washed, I got $100,000, exactly enough to cover one week of my mom's hospital bills.

Hunter always stayed far, far away from those sheets. He's incredibly obsessive about cleanliness, thought the whole thing was disgusting.

But now? Hunter, who'd never even lifted a finger to do a single chore his whole life, was washing Eugene's underwear with his own two hands.

My heart had gone numb a long time ago, dry and empty like an abandoned well. Now, a thousand tiny, sharp aches bloomed through it one by one.

Just when the pain was so bad I could barely breathe, a text pinged from my phone. It was from Hunter, out of the blue, checking in like he was supposed to.

Hunter: Tiffany, I have a work dinner tonight. I won't be coming home.

When I scrolled up from this new message, the whole screen was just crammed full of one-sided messages I'd sent him, over and over again.

I'd sent him thousands of messages in total, and he'd only replied to barely ten of them. It had been three whole years since the last time he'd voluntarily texted me to tell me where he was going.

I didn't bother typing a reply back. I just hailed a cab and headed straight for the funeral home. Today was the seventh-day memorial for my mother. After the memorial service, I collected her ashes to take with me.

Soon, I'd finally be able to bring her to Paris, the city she'd daydreamed about her whole life.

But the second I stepped through the funeral home's front gates, brilliant, blazing fireworks burst suddenly across the city's night sky.

Hundreds of drones weaved through the dark, tracing the outline of a girl's silhouette against the night.

Eugene updated her i********: feed right on cue. The photo showed her and Hunter locked in a passionate kiss right under the glowing drone display.

Her caption was: Happy 10 days together.

Even Hunter, who almost never posted anything on social media, shared a photo of Eugene and pinned it to the top of his profile as the only pinned post.

In the blink of an eye, a tidal wave of nasty comments crashed into my comment section.

A: [How can you put up with this? Mrs. James is a total cowardly quail!]

B: [Just step aside already! Eugene and Hunter are way more perfect for each other!]

C: [Stop bashing her, this lady's probably out hooking up just as much!]

I calmly turned off the comment section and ignored them all.

I returned home. But the second I walked through my front door, someone slapped me hard right across the face.