I have chosen you.
His jaw stiffened.
Of course he had done that. The clothes. The message. This was not spontaneous. It was planned.
‘You just wanted to walk away,’ I said slowly, ‘without even saying goodbye to the children?’
They’ll be fine. I’ll send money.
My hand gripped the countertop.
‘Money,’ I repeated. ‘Rose is going to ask tomorrow where her pancakes are. Do you think an automatic deposit is going to provide a solution for that?’
His jaw stiffened.
He shook his head. “I’m not doing this.”
He turned around and walked up the stairs.
I followed.
Because I absolutely wasn’t going to let him just ignore an entire family from the hallway.
Our bedroom door stood open. His suitcase was already half-zipped, his clothes were folded too neatly for someone who had just decided to leave.
‘You never intended to do that, did you?’ I asked.
I’m not doing this.
That was me.
“When? After the hotel? After the photos were posted online?”
He gave no answer.
I stood trembling in the doorway. “You could have just told me you were unhappy.”
‘I tell you,’ he snarled. ‘I choose my own happiness.’
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