Chapter 4
I did not want to pick up or text back. I just silenced my phone and let it blink away.
Our relationship was done for good.
Over at Janet’s place, Walter freaked out when he got my message.
He bombarded me with calls and texts.
[What are you saying? Don’t we have, like, a zillion forgiveness cards? Stop overreacting!]
[Is it because I wasn’t there? Just wait; we’ll talk when I get back.]
[Why aren’t you picking up? Melissa, you can’t just shut me out, even if you’re mad.]
[Pick up the phone! I’m telling you!]
He could not believe I would give him the silent treatment, and he kept texting me.
Walter’s fingers flew over his phone’s screen, his heart pounding as he dialed number after number, sent text after text. No answer. A knot of worry tightened in his chest.
“Why isn’t she picking up? We promised no hard feelings,” he muttered to himself, pacing
the room.
He thought back to all the times he had played the forgiveness card, how it felt like I was just going through the motions.
Even when there were legitimate reasons to be upset, I had just shrugged them off.
With each unanswered call, Walter felt a growing sense of dread. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, only to be stopped by Janet’s arms wrapping around him from behind, her cheek pressed against his back.
“Walter, where are you off to? You said today was all about us,” she said, her voice muffled.
Gently but firmly, Walter peeled her arms away and bolted out the door, leaving promises
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and plans behind.
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He floored the gas pedal, the city’s speed limits a blur as he raced back to his place.
As he stepped inside, he noticed shattered porcelain scattered across the floor. He crouched down and picked up a piece.
It was our ‘couple‘ cup.
The cup was in pieces, and the design of the two of us was so broken it was barely recognizable.
He knelt down, his fingers trembling as he picked up a shard. We had made that cup together, a symbol of our love he had always treasured, never even letting water touch its
sacred surface.
With the broken cup cradled in his hands, Walter pushed open the bedroom door. His heart sank as he took in the empty closets and the bare shelves. The reality hit him like a punch to the gut.
He slumped onto the bed, the room echoing with emptiness. The tablet’s wallpaper showed a snapshot of happier times, their smiling faces frozen in pixels. He reached out, longing to feel the warmth of the image that was no more.
“Where could she have gone to?” he whispered to the silence. “If not here, where?”
He was rummaging around when a pile of discarded paper on the table caught his eye.
They were the ‘forgiveness cards‘ I had made, each one stamped with a little red heart.
His hands shook as he spread them out across the table.
He tried to wipe away the red hearts, but they were stubborn, refusing to fade.
Staring down at the 66 cards fanned out before him, Walter was hit by a memory.
On our wedding day, he had looked me in the eyes and promised, “Melissa, I won’t ever need these! My love for you is eternal!”
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Then there was that other image, him standing next to Janet, impatiently gesturing for me
to hand over one of those cards.
Our love, built over the years, had been trampled underfoot in one year since Janet came
back.
He, who could not bear to see me upset, had carelessly played the ‘forgiveness card‘
repeatedly, each time without a second thought.
He would always find some way to patch things up after, never believing our love could actually be in trouble.
After all, each time he used one of those cards, he would follow it up with a gift as if that made everything okay.
He thought it was compensation, a prize for
With that in mind, he opened my jewelry box.
my silence.
Inside, everything he had ever given me was still there, untouched.
Rows of the same fancy bracelets, makeup still in its packaging.
He thought about the gifts for Janet, how he had known exactly which designer bags she
liked.
He had gone ahead and ordered every new model for her, sending them all to her doorstep.
Each of those bags was worth a fortune, nothing like the trinkets he had tossed my way.
Seeing the truth laid out in front of him, Walter was left speechless.
The once fiery romance, how did it cool off to such half–hearted exchanges?
He lounged on the couch, the night dragging on without a wink of sleep. Replaying in his mind, piece by piece, was the path that led them there.
The next day, Walter had barely stepped foot in the office when Janet slipped in behind
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him.
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“Walter, you look beat. Here’s your coffee, and the draft for the new partnership plan.”
She set the coffee down and reached out to give his shoulder a comforting squeeze.
He used to relish in the warmth of her affection.
At this moment, however, the thought of my leaving made his expression sour even more.
He sidestepped her hand, nudged the coffee away, and turned his attention to the proposal
on his desk.
It was a mess from start to finish, practically gibberish.
It was so bad that it was like staring at a train wreck.
If they sent that to the client, it would not just torpedo the deal–it would tank their
company’s reputation.
Walter dropped the proposal on the desk, pausing for a beat before he fired off.
“Who’s responsible for this? Who thought it was okay to pass this mess to me?
“Where’s Melissa? Didn’t she review
this?”
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