Chapter 4
Our gazes clashed, and Effie froze.
“You’re torching our marriage over a bonus squabble and today’s argument?” she sulked. “Seriously? Grow a backbone. You’re acting like a child.”
Disbelief clung to her, prompting an unconscious retreat.
Kevin’s eyes flashed with glee before he masked it with faux mediation.
“Gabriel, calm down,” he chimed in. “I’m willing to give up my bonus to you. Don’t torpedo your life with Ms. Marsh over this. Divorce talk is no joke.”
His words prompted Effie to compare us. “Gabriel, have some shame. Strong-arming a junior into forking over cash? You’ve been in the trenches for so many years, yet Kevin has got more maturity. Act your age, okay?”
Kevin basked in her praise, but I remained impassive, undeterred by her barbs.
“Save it,” I said. “Resignation and divorce are locked in. End of story.”
Effie squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to contain her fury. “Fine! I’ll flip the bonus your way and tee up a promotion next cycle. Satisfied? That’s your endgame, huh?”
“Wrong,” I replied. “Hear me clearly. I’m out of the job and marriage.”
Frustration boiled over in my voice as I hammered the desk, jolting her backward.
The exchange shredded her remaining patience. After a piercing stare-down, she jabbed a finger toward the door and bellowed, “Get out! Who do you think you are? We’ll thrive without your ego weighing us down.”
That was the green light I needed.
I stormed out, ransacked my workspace, and geared up to vanish.
Effie followed, her heels clicking on the floor. Her chest heaving, she hadn’t banked on my follow-through.
Whispers rippled through the bullpen as colleagues rubbernecked.
“Gabriel is quitting?”
“Bonus beef yesterday and public dressing-down today? Things have blown up.”
“They’re a couple, right? Divorce incoming? Kevin has been her shadow lately. Bet that’s the cause.”
I paused, a bitter smile forming.
Even these outsiders sniffed the impropriety between Effie and Kevin, linking it to my resignation. Yet she dismissed it as mere petulance.
Clutching my box, I strode past her glare and out of the building.
Back home, I drafted the divorce agreement, placed it on the coffee table, and left with my packed suitcase.
In the past six years, I had been fully devoted to her.
My heart was broken yesterday. Now numbness reigned.
My luggage rolling behind, I surveyed our once-cozy home one final time before closing the door decisively.
Drifting without a plan, I crashed at the place of my old friend, Clifford Valdez.
1/2
“Perfect timing, Mr. Busy,” he joked. “Come on in. We’re toasting till dawn.”
He ushered me in with enthusiasm, his gaze raw with empathy for me and outrage at Effie’s duplicity.
I was even more convinced that leaving her was my best choice.
Effie, however, wasn’t one to bow out gracefully.
That evening, she called, her tone accusatory. “What’s with the divorce agreement on the table?”
TID DUnus
Florence is a passionate reader who finds joy in long drives on rainy days. She’s also a fan of Italian makeup tutorials, blending beauty and elegance into her everyday life.
