Chapter 5 

The silence in the empty apartment was heavy, broken only by the ticking of the clock in the hallway. I carried my suitcase downstairs, placing the keys on the entryway table. This place, this life, had never truly been mine. I closed the door, a sense of finality washing over me, but also a strange lightness, a sense of release. 

he winter air in New York City was biting, a stark contrast to the balmy Hawaiian breeze I craved. For years, both Ethan and I had been consumed by work, neglecting our promise to take Abby to the islands. Instead, we would bring her along on business trips, trying to 

make up for our absence. 

She would tug on my skirt, her little voice filled with longing. “Mommy, ice cream!” 

My frown would silence her, her big brown eyes clouding over. 

And then, Ethan would appear, holding a cone of vanilla ice cream. He would hold it out to 

Abby, his voice a playful tease. “Just one lick, kiddo.” 

She would frown, taking a tiny lick, her face a mixture of delight and suspicion. 

He would pull it away, taking a bite himself, before offering it to her again. She would 

stretch her neck, eager for more, but he would pull it back, laughing as she protested with a frustrated, “Daddy bad!” 

Her vocabulary was still limited, but she made her point clear. Ethan and I would exchange amused glances, finding humor in her childish frustration. 

“One lick is enough, squirt. Don’t be greedy. Your mom wouldn’t even give you that much,” 

Ethan would chuckle, tossing the napkin in the trash. 

He would reach out to hug her, but she would bury her face in my shoulder, refusing his affection. He would call her name, try to coax her out, but she would remain stubbornly attached to me. He would just follow us, trying to make her laugh, his persistence a strange comfort. 

For a brief moment, it felt like a normal family. 

13.12 FR 13 Dec MQ 

so hard, to be a good wife, a good mother. 

He might not have loved me, but he was trying to be a good father. 

And I had convinced myself that was enough. 

But now, standing here, with the echo of his betrayal ringing in my ears, I realized how foolish I had been. 

once gone, never truly returned. 

69% 

I checked into the hotel late at night, the exhaustion of grief weighing heavily on my shoulders. I unpacked, turned off the lights, and closed my eyes, longing for oblivion. But sleep offered no escape. Nightmares, vivid and terrifying, invaded my dreams. 

Abby’s voice, a terrified whisper in the darkness, “Mommy, it’s so dark…” 

Her small form, fading like smoke, disappearing into the blackness. 

I woke with a gasp, my heart pounding, my body drenched in cold sweat. I got out of bed, changed my clothes, and walked to the beach, needing the cool air on my face, the rhythmic sound of the waves to soothe my frayed nerves. 

The ocean, vast and dark, stretched out before me, a mirror of my own despair. 

I sat on the sand, watching the moon’s reflection shimmering on the water, until dawn painted the sky with streaks of pink and gold. 

Back at the hotel, I showered, changed, and went to arrange for Abby’s sea burial. 

As I watched her ashes drift away on the current, the finality of it hit me with a crushing 

force. 

دن 

She was gone. Forever. 

And it should have been me. 

I stumbled back to the hotel, my body heavy with grief, my mind numb. 

The receptionist, her eyes filled with concern, asked, “Ma’am, are you okay?” 

13:12 Fri, 13 Dec M. 

I forced a smile, my voice a dry rasp. “I’m fine. Just tired.” 

Was I convincing her, or myself? 

69%1 

Abby had hated the cold New York winters. She would spend her days indoors, drawing, creating fantastical worlds filled with sunshine and color. I wondered if she was in one of those worlds now, finally free from pain, from the cold, from the burden of a broken heart.