Chapter 2 - The Souvenir
I looked at Graham, watching the guilt war with the relief on his perfectly tailored face. He was waiting for the tears. He was waiting for me to throw the water cup, to scream, to demand answers about hotel rooms and whispered phone calls.
I gave him nothing.
Instead, I raised my left hand. My fingers were pale, the skin dry from the hospital soap. The four-carat emerald-cut diamond, flanked by platinum, felt suddenly incredibly heavy. It was a ring chosen by his mother, purchased by his trust fund, and worn by me for nine years as a symbol of an alliance I had just realized was entirely hollow.
I slid the ring past my knuckle. It slipped off easily.
Graham’s breath hitched. "Maddie. What are you doing?"
I did not answer. I leaned over, the stitches in my abdomen pulling fiercely, and dropped the heavy diamond into the white wicker basket. It landed perfectly inside the jar of imported honey with a soft, final clink.
"Take the basket," I instructed, my voice as calm as a winter lake.
"Maddie—"
"Take it," I repeated, looking directly into his eyes. "And give it back to Celeste. Tell her I appreciate the almond biscuits, but I am returning the only thing she actually wanted."
Graham stared at the ring resting against the glass jar. He looked entirely destabilized. Men like Graham understand hysterics; they know how to manage a crying woman. They have no defense against absolute, surgical indifference.
"I am not taking that to her," he said softly, his ego finally bruising.
"You will," I said, leaning back against the sterile pillows. "Because if you leave it here, I will have Alana throw it in the biohazard bin. Take your ring, Graham. Go to Celeste. Start your next chapter. I am very tired, and I would like to sleep now."
He stood there for a long moment, a man caught between the life he was discarding and the mistress he was hiding. Finally, he picked up the basket. His knuckles were white.
"We will talk when you are thinking clearly," he said, trying to summon the authority he used in boardrooms.
"Goodbye, Graham."
May you like
He walked out. The door clicked shut.
I waited exactly sixty seconds. Then, I picked up my phone and called my lawyer.
