Chapter 5: Letting Go

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After a long, silent stare, I looked at him, numb.

The quiet was heavy, a gulf between us too wide to cross. I met his eyes, but there was nothing left to give.

"Ryan, the project the entire company worked on for a year is gone. Are you happy now, seeing me lose control?"

My voice was flat, brittle. I wanted him to feel the weight of what he’d done, even if just for a second.

He still wasn’t satisfied, pressing, "Did you hit her because of me, or because of the company?"

His obsession with my motives was exhausting. He always needed to be the reason, the center of everything.

I shook off his hand, forced myself to calm down, and spoke wearily.

I straightened my jacket, gathering what little dignity I had left. My exhaustion seeped into every word.

"Because of the company."

The truth tasted bitter. It was the only answer I could give and still look myself in the mirror.

He grew angry again, his voice icy. "Then go spend your life with your work."

His words stung, but there was nothing left to say. I turned away, my heart heavy.

Jessica came over to comfort him. "Ryan, don’t be mad. It’s not worth hurting your health."

She looped her arm through his, the picture of false concern. I watched, numb.

He stared at me for a long moment.

The silence stretched. I could feel his gaze on my back, searching for any sign of regret. I refused to give him one.

"Megan, do you know why I keep Jessica around? Because she knows how to coax me, she gets jealous for me, she relies on me like a sweet little woman."

His words were a slap, his eyes challenging me to respond. I just felt empty.

I just felt exhausted, my voice hoarse. "Then be with her."

The words fell between us, final and cold. I meant every syllable.

Ryan’s anger flared. "Megan!"

He was shouting now, but it was just noise. I was done.

I looked at him, expressionless.

My face was blank, my heart beyond caring. I waited for the final blow, but it never came.

"Ryan, what is it you actually want?"

My question was simple, but I knew he’d never be able to answer it.

The voices rolled by:

They sounded tired now, like a song played too many times on a scratched record.

"He wants you to yield, to show weakness, to let your emotions fluctuate for him."

"Girl, he just loves you too much—he feels insecure. Try to understand him."

"He looks strong, but he’s fragile inside. Every night you work late, he can only clutch his blanket and sulk: Why isn’t my girl coming home? Does she not love me anymore?"

"Isn’t she pitiful? Just because he’s insecure, she has to suffer like this. I can’t stand it."

Ryan hesitated, then said softly, "Think about it."

His voice was almost gentle, but I barely heard it. The last thread between us snapped.

I ignored him, lost in my own thoughts.

My mind drifted—memories of happier times, of the person I used to be. I wondered if she’d ever come back.

Do I love him?

Maybe I did, once. But now, all I want is to escape.

The word felt dangerous, but right. I wanted out. I wanted peace.

As for whether he loves me—I don’t care anymore.

I realized that truth as I watched his hand in Jessica’s, their silhouettes merging in the doorway.

Watching their backs as they left, I called my lawyer.

I dialed the number with trembling hands, the familiar voice on the other end grounding me.

"Draft a divorce agreement. I want a divorce. We’ll discuss the division of assets at the office tomorrow."

The line went dead. For the first time, the silence felt like freedom.