He Wanted to Sell Our House for Her Trip, I Bought It Instead Chapter 03
That night, after their laughter died down, I came out of the room.
Derek was lying on the couch looking at his phone. Tiffany had gone to her room. Brenda was washing fruit in the kitchen.
“Derek, I want a divorce.”
I said it calmly.
He froze, then looked up. “What did you say?”
“Divorce. I’m taking Leo.”
Derek sat up straight, his face hardening.
“Clara, are you insane? Divorce is embarrassing. What will my coworkers and friends think?”
Embarrassing.
Not that he’d miss me. He was afraid of losing face.
“And another thing—my son is a Vance. You can’t take him.”
“Your son?” I stared at him. “Have you spent one single day taking care of him? Ever fed him a bottle? Changed one diaper?”
Derek opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
“You only care about your sister. When Leo’s pants were so small they didn’t even fit him anymore, what were you doing? You were wiring money to Tiffany.”
“I—”
“You what? When Leo had a fever in the middle of the night and I carried him to the hospital alone, where were you? You were at the movies with your sister.”
Everything I said was the truth.
He had no comeback.
Derek went quiet. I could see him wavering.
Then Tiffany’s door opened.
She leaned against the frame and yawned. “Derek, if she wants a divorce, let her. Why are you hesitating?”
“Tiffany, don’t stir things up.”
“I’m stirring things up?” Tiffany walked over and plopped down on the couch. “She just wants to take your money. The house is already sold. There’s nothing left in the bank. You know she’s after what little is there.”
“I’m not—” I started.
“Shut up.” Tiffany cut me off and turned back to Derek. “We don’t need her as some maid anyway. She leaves, you hire a part-time housekeeper. What, two grand a month? Still cheaper than her.”
Brenda poked her head out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel.
“Tiffany’s right. Get a divorce. You can find another wife. The money she earns was supposed to go to Tiffany anyway.”
Three years in that house, and all I was to them was a maid.
I gave them a son, and in their mouths, I was something you could replace off the street.
Derek looked at Tiffany, then at Brenda, then finally at me.
He gritted his teeth. “Fine. Divorce it is.”
Like he was the one making some huge sacrifice.
The next day, we went to the County Clerk’s Office.
The clerk looked at our paperwork, face blank.
“There’s a thirty-day mandatory waiting period. If both parties still want the divorce after thirty days, come back and we’ll finalize it.”
Thirty days. Enough.
We came out of the office, and I went home to pack.
There wasn’t much. Three years, and I’d only filled two suitcases.
Brenda stood in the living room watching, muttering under her breath. “Take it all. Take it all. Less clutter.”
Derek sat on the couch. His phone buzzed.
He glanced down, and a smile spread across his face.
A text from Tiffany: [Got it! Love you, Der. Xoxo]
I pulled the suitcases and took Leo’s hand, heading for the door.
At the doorway, Leo stopped and turned around.
He called out, “Dad.”
Three years old. He didn’t understand what was happening. He just saw his dad sitting there and wanted to say it.
Derek didn’t even look up.
He was too busy texting Tiffany back, thumbs flying across the screen.
“Dad!” Leo called again, louder.
I crouched down and picked him up.
“Come on, baby.”
Leo rested his chin on my shoulder, still looking back.
Derek never looked up. Not even when the elevator doors closed.
The elevator went down. Leo mumbled against my shoulder, “Mommy, why didn’t Daddy answer me?”
I opened my mouth. Didn’t know what to say.
Leo thought for a second, then lifted his head and touched my face with his small hand.
“Mommy, did Daddy make you sad?”
I froze.
“Mommy’s good. Daddy’s bad. So we don’t need Daddy anymore.”
Leo said it so seriously, his little face all puffed up. My tears came rushing out.
I crouched down and hugged him, burying my face in his tiny shoulder.
He was so small. Only three. But he saw everything.
Leo patted my back, the way I always patted his. Soft. Slow.
“Don’t cry, Mommy. When I grow up, I’ll protect you.”
I held him tighter. “Leo, listen to Mommy. From now on, there’s no daddy. Just Mommy. Are you scared?”
Leo thought about it, then shook his head.
“No daddy means no one to make you sad anymore. Leo likes it when Mommy smiles.”
We stepped out of the building into the sunlight.
The curtains were drawn on the Vances’ windows.
Behind those curtains, Derek was probably texting Tiffany again.
He had no idea that in thirty days, the house he’d sold would be worth a small fortune.
And he had no idea that small fortune was in my mother’s name.
None of that mattered anymore.
What mattered was that Leo and I had finally left that place.