My husband said he was going to Toronto for a two-year work assignment. I saw him off in tears, but the moment I got home, I transferred the entire $650,000 from our savings and filed for divorce.
The terminal at O’Hare International Airport was bustling with people. I held Mark’s hand tightly, tears streaming down my face uncontrollably.
“Mark, do you really have to be gone for two whole years?” I asked, my voice choked with emotion.
Mark gently wiped my tears away, his own voice filled with reluctance.
“Hannah, you know how important this project is for my career.
Two years will fly by. I’ll video call you all the time, but I’ll miss you.”
I buried my head in his chest. He patted my back softly.
“Silly girl.
I’ll miss you, too, but this is a huge opportunity for our future. When I come back, we’ll have enough money to finally put a down payment on a house in a good neighborhood.”
The boarding announcement echoed through the hall. Mark kissed my forehead deeply.
“Wait for me.”
I stood frozen, watching his back disappear through the security checkpoint until my vision blurred with tears.
The travelers around me hurried past, no one noticing the weeping woman in the corner.
I wiped my eyes with a tissue, took a deep breath, and turned to leave the airport. In the back of the Uber, I leaned against the window, watching the familiar Chicago streets blur past.
The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror.
“Seeing someone off?”
I nodded, not saying a word.
“Seeing you so upset must be a boyfriend or husband.”
“My husband,” I replied softly.
The driver sighed.
“It’s tough for young couples these days, having to live apart for work. But don’t you worry, a good man always comes back.”
I managed a faint smile but didn’t respond.
The car soon arrived at our condo building in Lincoln Park.
I paid the fare and walked into the home Mark and I had shared. The empty apartment echoed with my footsteps.
I stood in the entryway looking at the pair of slippers he’d left behind by the door, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. I kicked off my heels, walked barefoot into the living room, and sank onto the sofa.
Pulling my phone from my purse, I opened my banking app.
The balance of our joint account was displayed clearly: $650,482.117.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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